Tangled Oaths
by Nike
Summary: He looked different now and no one else could see him as he rode the wind and made ice dance. But he was still her Jack, too busy having fun and making people smile to notice the dark things in the shadows watching him. And she knew that one day she would gladly give her life to save him just as he had once given his to save her. Alternate canon.
1. Chapter 1: The Servant of Two Masters

_**Tangled Oaths**_

_**By Nike**_

**Summary:** She watched her brother with a soft smile. He looked different now; his hair was white, his eyes were blue, his clothing rimed with frost, and no one else could see him as he rode the wind and made ice dance. But he was still her Jack, too busy having fun and making people smile to notice the dark things in the shadows watching him. And she knew that one day she would gladly give her life to save him just as he had once given his to save her.

"It is a long story. Very sad, but has happy ending!" Alternate version of canon.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Rise of the Guardians or the Guardians of Childhood. This fan work is made for fun, not profit.

**Warnings:** I operate on the belief that Jack's been around long enough that, whatever his actual physical age is, he's long since passed the legal age to do, well, anything. I am fully aware that not everyone agrees with that. I also don't plan for any sex to be in this story. Nevertheless and keeping in mind what I said above, quite a few of Pitch Black's actions in the course of this story can easily be interpreted as sexual assault on a minor. If this upsets or triggers you, you may want to tread carefully or back away entirely. Warnings pertinent to future chapters will be posted at the beginning of that chapter.

**Notes:** There are several OCs wandering around this story but they all exist to forward the plot in some way. Jane, despite what you might think at first, is technically not an OC and is actually a character from the movie that was woefully underdeveloped. I do want to warn you that you might get mood-whiplash from this because I'm going to be bouncing around between adventure, drama, and comedy over the course of this story.

* * *

_**Chapter One: The Servant of Two Masters**_

_Present Day_

"Are you ready?" Jack whispered into the ear of 8-year old Jamie Bennett. Jamie silently nodded as he stared wide-eyed and excited at the steep, rock and tree-strewn hill. He was face-down on his sled and his sled sat at the very peak of the hill, one push away from certain injury.

"Ready. Set. GO!" Jack said before giving Jamie a push and taking off into the air in the same movement. Jamie screamed as Jack iced a path for his sled to follow, one that narrowly curved around several trees and threaded past two large rocks. Jamie let out a breathless laugh as he passed them, only to gasp when he realized he was on a collision course with several more, no gaps to be seen. He yelled in fear just before he hit a quickly formed ice ramp that sent him and the sled flying over the rocks and into a deep snow drift at the bottom of the hill.

"You okay, buddy?" Jack asked as he floated over the drift Jamie was shakily climbing out of.

"Can we do it again?" Jamie asked with a bright smile.

"Nuh uh, Jamie! It's my turn!" Pippa said, grabbing Jack's arm.

"It's not your turn, it's mine!" Claude said, grabbing Jack's other arm.

"No, mine!" Caleb yelled.

"Me next!" Monty cried, willing to let someone else claim the next turn as long as he got one.

"Hey, hey, calm down. Everyone'll get a turn," Jack promised with a laugh and a grin right before the chime of a bell reached them. "Right after we answer that. Race you!" He took off with a laugh even as the kids scrambled to follow, whooping and yelling as they ran.

In Burgess, there were several acres of woods perfect for snowball sniping and a pond perfect for skating on in the winter, and right on their edge was a two-story cottage, the bottom floor of which was the best bakery in town. Several other commercial buildings, busy even now that Christmas was long over, tried to crowd the the popular little shop, but the Frosted Cookie bakery was designed to stand out. Coming from the woods, it was easy to imagine it as the gingerbread house owned by Hansel and Gretel's witch, what with it's cheerful, multi-color paint and white gingerbread molding. Above the door hung a silver bell designed with floral frost patterns that rang every time a batch of goodies was out of the oven and ready to eat. Inside were luscious displays all along two walls and a cozy dining area with dozens of pictures hanging from the walls. Opposite the entrance stood double swinging doors, ready to open at a moment's notice.

The children piled inside, shoving each other and dropping gloves and mittens as they searched their pockets for allowance money enough to purchase one of the delectable treats on display in the front of the shop. Mrs. Tildson was just finishing up at the register with Danny, one of the teenagers who eagerly offered to help in exchange for a small salary and any leftover baked goods at the end of the day. She smiled at the children and, as she turned to leave, Jack entered and hung his crook up on the hanger above the door. As soon as the staff was out of his hands, his hair and eyes turned brown and the frost melted off his clothes and Mrs. Tildson blinked up at him in surprise before adjusting her glasses.

"Oh, Jack! I didn't see you come in! Pardon me, but I'd best get this home before I'm tempted to eat it right here!" Mrs. Tildson said with a smile.

"Of course, Mrs. Tildson. I don't think Mr. Tildson would forgive you if you ate it all. But don't worry, I won't tell if you do," Jack said with a cheeky grin as he moved to hold the door open for her.

"Jane's right, you are an imp! But you're the politest imp I've ever met," Mrs. Tildson told him with a laugh and a cheerful smile as she left the bakery. Jack let the door swing shut even as the kitchen doors burst open, letting out a waft of hot, sweet-scented air and the owner of the shop.

Ms. Jane was a tall, plump woman who had her silver hair up in a practical bun, although the day's work had many strands of it running loose and framing her happy face. She was a pleasant, cheerful woman and everyone thought it was a bit of a joke that she dressed up as a witch every Halloween because she looked nothing like one. Her brown eyes twinkled in joy as she took in the children looking up at her expectantly.

"Here we are! Hot cocoa and cookies fresh from the oven! Don't forget to pay Danny first," she told them even as she set the tray she was holding on the largest table in the shop.

"Yes, Ms. Jane!" the children chorused before bum-rushing poor Danny standing at the register. Jack quickly counted the servings and noting that there were enough for the kids but not for him as well, started edging towards the kitchen doors. He got caught before he could sneak through them.

"Away with you, imp! I'll not have you melt in my kitchen!" Jane said, grabbing the back of his hoodie and tugging him away from the doors before shoving him down on a stool behind the counter.

"Sit. Stay."

"I'm not a dog," Jack reminded her.

"No, dog's are better trained," Jane replied as she pulled a plate of cookies out of the freezer they kept the ice-cream cakes in (and that also helped hide the door leading to the upstairs). Danny snerked, making Jack give him an evil look and move him to the top of his mental list of people who needed a handful of snow down the back of their shirts. However, he perked right up when Jane set the cooled cookies down in front of him.

"Yes! Thank you!"

"You're welcome, Jack," Jane said as she headed back toward the kitchen, but added, "Put it on his tab, Danny," before she disappeared into the other room. Danny dutifully wrote down the cookies on Jack's tab, which was actually a bit of a running joke. Everyone who worked in the Frosted Cookie Bakery knew Jack never paid his tab. Ms. Jane didn't hire anyone who couldn't see Jack Frost while he was holding his staff, mostly because rule number one was "Don't Let Jack In The Kitchen". Once that was done and making sure the kids were absorbed in the cookies and cocoa, Danny turned to talk to Jack.

"Hey, Mark's having a party at his house tonight. He told me to let you know you're invited."

Jack made a face around his mouthful of cookie before swallowing and reply, "Tell him I appreciate it, but no thanks. There's no way I'm showing my face this close to Valentine's Day."

Danny nodded, having expected something like this. Jack had a weird relationship with the teenagers of Burgess. For some reason, despite growing up seeing him both with the staff and without, about the time the hormones hit big time, the people of Burgess stopped believing in Jack Frost. Oh, some held out for quite awhile, like the teens who helped in the bakery, and some even lasted long into adulthood, like Mrs. Worley and Old Man Greenbow, but most just... stopped. Like Mrs. Tildson just a few minutes ago, they not only couldn't see Jack when he was holding his staff, but ignored everything odd about him.

When asked about who the heck the boy wandering around the bakery was, most people came up with some weird story of how Jack was obviously Ms. Jane's grandson with the weird rare disease that made him pass out from heat exhaustion the moment it started getting warm, which was why he was home-schooled instead of attending the local high school. The "disease" was also why the "poor dear" couldn't help his "grandma" with the bakery and why he spent most of the year shut up in his room with the air conditioner running full blast. People just looked at you blankly when you asked why he ran about without shoes.

Despite most of the town thinking Jack had some weird disease, he was very well liked. Once the hormones hit, most of the girls and a few of the guys started swooning over Jack, much to the irritation of the rest of the guys and the occasional girl. Still, being able to skip school was considered "cool" and the believers made a point to invite Jack to parties because, quite frankly, the guy was a lot of fun. It helped that Jack tried to discourage his fans, avoiding the girls when possible and letting them down gently when it wasn't. The popularity of _Twilight_ hadn't helped, though, because even the female believers had missed the boat where a relationship with a centuries-old guy was a bad idea and they were no longer helping steer their friends in a different direction.

"Afraid the fact you sparkle in the sunlight will get you more fangirls?" Danny teased. The look Jack gave him in response promised cold, snowy pain, but Danny had grown up with an attitude to snowball fights that amounted to "Bring it" and was currently the best pitcher on the high school baseball team and thus was unphased. He was so looking forward to the end of his shift. Their conversation, such as it was, probably would've continued in that vein if Jamie Bennett wasn't such a curious kid.

"Hey, Jack? How old is that picture?"

Jack and Danny both looked up to see Jamie gesturing at the oldest picture of the bunch up on the wall. The posing was stiff because back then you had to be still for a long time or you'd ruin the picture, but the people in the picture were very recognizable as a dark-haired Jack and the white-haired Ms. Jane.

"I don't know," Jack admitted, fingers rubbing against the hair of his head as he thought. "Some time in the 1840s, I think. Photographs were still pretty new, I remember."

Danny saw when it clicked in the kid's head. Jamie had just put together what the photographs, the gingerbread cottage, and Ms. Jane's annual Halloween costume meant. It wasn't like she tried to hide it, after all. It was all right in the open for everyone to see. But if the people of Burgess were stupid about Jack Frost, they were even worse at realizing Ms. Jane was a witch.

"Don't worry about it," Jack said, coming out from behind the counter and giving Jamie a friendly head-rub, making the kid sputter in indignation, which was probably the point. Jack then reached up and grabbed his staff from its place above the door, twirling it like it didn't weigh a thing (and maybe it didn't. No one touched Jack's staff, so Danny didn't know), before letting the end hit the floor with a crack.

"I seem to remember promising a couple of kids sled rides."

Danny rolled his eyes at the ensuing riot, but helped find lost gloves, mittens, and hats before cleaning up after the kids. Snagging one of the now thawed cookies Jack had left behind, Danny cheerfully went about his job. He had a snowball fight after work to look forward to.

* * *

The snowball fight earlier with not only Danny but a few other of Jack's teenaged believers had left Jack in a great mood as he went about his work. Michigan and Ontario were due a snow storm, as was Denmark. He'd even stopped to add some frost designs to the gargoyles of Notre Dame in Paris before heading home. He'd just gotten back to Burgess and was making especially delicate frost designs on little Betty Worley's windows because she couldn't totter outside very easily thanks to her hip replacement when he noticed the shadow moving oddly. Worse, it was moving oddly right outside Cupcake's bedroom window. With a sharp frown and narrowed eyes, Jack went to investigate. Getting into Cupcake's room was easy; like most of the kids in Burgess, she always left the window open a crack so both Jack and the Sandman could drop by. In fact, Sandy was on his rounds right now, the golden glow of his sand visible from the window. But there was no golden sand in this room. Only a little girl curled up in bed, frightened whimpers dragged from her throat by the vicious little nightmare of black sand running circles above her head. Jack froze it solid and Cupcake woke with a gasp. Cupcake's eyes darted frantically around the room before finally resting on Jack. Then he was left trying not to fumble the frozen nightmare while trying to simultaneously hug and calm down the crying girl.

"Hey. Hey, it's okay, Cupcake. I'm here. Shh." When her crying slowed, Jack added, "That's a good girl. Now I need you to do something for me."

"What?" Cupcake asked, arms tightening around Jack enough that he winced as his ribs creaked. Strewth, he hoped she didn't grow up to become one of his admirers. She'd break him in half like a twig if he turned her down.

"Nothing big. I want to teach you how to get rid of nightmares."

"Really?" she said, peering up at him with eyes full of hope. "How?"

"You know how in Harry Potter they point at the monster that jumps out of the closet and call it ridiculous and it turns into something funny or something funny happens to it?" Once Cupcake nodded, Jack continued, "Well, that's what we're going to do. When you find yourself in the middle of a nightmare, you just have to point at it and laugh at it until it's a good dream again."

"But Harry Potter and the others had wands and magic. I don't have a wand or magic," Cupcake pointed out.

"It's your dream. Who says you can't have a wand or magic in your dream?"

Cupcake's head tilted to the side and her eyes narrow as she contemplated this, but then she shrugged, accepting his logic.

"Ready?" Jack asked, holding out the nightmare. The ice was holding for now, but he knew that if he didn't keep a hold on it, it would eventually thaw and escape back to its master.

"Wait," Cupcake said, pulling back in fear.

"It's okay. I'll be right here."

Cupcake eyed the nightmare warily before a determined look settled firmly on her face. She looked up at Jack and gave him a nod. He handed her the nightmare, letting it thaw as he did. Cupcake flinched but held it tight even as it whinnied threateningly.

"Ridiculous," Cupcake whispered fiercely to whatever vision she was now seeing, "It's all ridiculous. That would never happen. …and what is Monty wearing?" The giggle was sudden and unexpected, but the moment it erupted, the black sand started turning gold. Cupcake blinked, coming out of the vision only to give her cupped hands a surprised look, only seeing golden sand. She looked up at Jack, who gave her a proud smile.

"You did it! Now it's late and time for all good little girls to be in bed." Jack blew gently on the sand so it rose in the air and framed the girl's head like a golden halo. She yawned and laid back down on the bed, eyes closing and a happy, peaceful look on her face. Jack pulled up the blankets and tucked her in.

"Night, kiddo."

"Night, Jack," Cupcake managed before Sandy's new connection with the sand swept her away with a sweet dream.

Jack climbed out of her window, closing it behind him, and landed lightly on the ground, staff held tight in his hand. Looking around, he held his staff in a ready position and called out, "I know you're here. You shouldn't have come. If I find out you've gone near any of the others..."

"You'll what, Jack?"

Jack swung around and sent a burst of ice in the direction of the shadow that talked. It hit the wall and disembodied laughter rang in the street.

"Temper, temper, Jack." Jack chased after the moving shadow, sending out bursts of ice that never quite hit. It disappeared in an alley along the backside of a building, the only light coming from the nearby gas station. Jack landed on the ground, staff at the ready, swinging every time movement caught the corner of his eye.

"You stay away from them. They're _my_ kids!" Jack yelled even as he scanned the area for movement.

"So possessive," Jack heard the Boogeyman murmur. He turned in the direction he'd heard the voice come from with a scowl only to be caught off guard when he was hit by something solid from an entirely different direction. Air burst out of his lungs in a huff as he found himself pushed roughly against a wall by Pitch Black. The taller spirit made sure to pin the hand holding the staff at the wrist and away from Jack's body to keep it out of play even as his other hand tightened around Jack's neck, forcing Jack to claw at it with his free hand to keep from being choked.

"Oh, Jack, have you forgotten? Everything you own is mine."

"The hell it is!" Jack spat only to cry out in pain as Pitch twisted his wrist to just shy of the point of breaking, making Jack drop the staff. Jack panicked when it left his grip, struggling to reach it even as humanity fell around him like a cloak. Pitch moved and the next thing Jack's hysterical brain noted was Pitch pulling Jack's back firmly against him, one arm wrapped around Jack's arms and torso at the elbows so Jack's arms were pinned. Pitch's free hand moved like a caress at Jack's neck before gripping Jack's chin almost painfully.

"Have you forgotten your oath already, Jack?" Pitch asked, breath hot and humid against Jack's ear. "You belong to _me_."

Jack's breath hitched when Pitch let go of his chin only to run his hand teasingly down Jack's chest, stopping above his heart. Jack started struggling even harder, uncaring that his fear was feeding the bastard because he _knew_ what Pitch wanted – Pitch had gotten far too close to taking it before. All of the fight left him when Pitch pressed in, not physically but spiritually, in a way that left Jack aching in his very soul.

"Stop it," Jack whispered even as a vision of a Gordian knot formed of black, red, gold, and silver threads rose in his mind. Grey fingers with sharp black nails picked delicately at the knot, making some of the loops loosen and others constrict.

"Let's untangle this, shall we?" Pitch said, voice searing against Jack's ear and echoing in his head at the same time. A finger took a loop, gold in color, and stretched it taut. "Or perhaps we should just _cut_ through it."

Alarm that didn't belong to Jack suddenly rang through him and Pitch cursed as the strands all suddenly tensed and jerked, gold and silver and red first followed swiftly by black as it tried to keep up. The knot compressed so fast that Jack was left without a single breath in his body and an inability to draw in more, like someone had punched him in the solar plexus. Then gold surrounded him – not the thread but a whip – yanking him out of Pitch's grip even as a second whip forced the Boogeyman back. Sandy was there, fierce in his anger as he placed himself protectively in front of Jack, who found himself gasping for air and scrambling for his staff. His fear dampened as he took hold of the rough wood, finding comfort in the cold and the immortality it offered, and he stood tall and firm behind Sandy, ready to protect the other's back. Pitch's face had twisted in anger, but, after his eyes twitched, taking in the situation, it smoothed to impassivity.

"Very well, I can see where I'm not wanted." He gave Jack a twisted little smile as he said, "I'll see _you_ later." Then he was gone, all of the shadows just normal shadows.

"Thanks, Sandy," Jack said, leaning against his staff for support as the adrenaline drained out of him, leaving him feeling shaky. A series of images appeared over Sandy's head, making Jack smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Normally I can take the bastard. He just caught me by surprise is all."

Sandy gave him a look before letting it drop and bringing up a different topic, a horse growing all spiky before splitting into two and then four.

"You've noticed them too, huh? He's getting bolder," Jack admitted. "He usually leaves Burgess alone because my kids know how to defeat the nightmares. The fact he feels comfortable coming out here is... not a good sign." The silver thread he could no longer see but could always feel there, just under his skin, stopped thrumming in pleading worry and jerked demandingly. Jack winced as the order settled in his mind, clear and distinct without a single loophole to exploit. Jack grimaced and rubbed at his chest. Jane was tugging on the binding, demanding he come home right away. She must have felt Pitch tugging at the oaths. She always turned frantic when she became aware the Boogeyman was creeping about.

"Do me a favor, little man. I've got to get going, but you'll let your fellow Guardians know Pitch is up to something, right?"

Sandy nodded eagerly.

"Thanks, Sandy. See you later," Jack told Sandy before leaving, walking slowly instead of flying, feeling irritated at the order forcing him home. Jack was rebellious and would have preferred to take care of things himself, but he would have to settle for the Guardians being alerted while he obeyed Jane. There were times he hated being bound and having to obey her, and now was one of them. She tried to make up for the downsides of the binding. She tried to give him as much freedom as the binding allowed and she tried to make the bakery as much a home for him as possible, even in the summer when the heat became unbearable. She did everything in her power to make things better – except undo the binding. To be fair, though, there were so many different bindings and oaths tangled together that she couldn't undo hers without something bad happening. So he rebelled in this small way, kicking rocks and glaring at empty shadows, and then felt guilty for it once he reached the bakery and saw how frantic she was first hand. Once he was safely inside, she grabbed him up in a hug, clinging desperately.

"I'm sorry about the order, Jack. I know you hate them, but what if he'd managed to grab you again? I can't... I can't lose you like that, not again."

"You won't, Janey. Pitch can't take me while the oaths and bindings are still here. You know that."

"I know. I know! I just..." She squeezed him harder before finally drawing back so she could look him in the eye.

"It'll be okay, Janey. I promise," Jack said, giving her the cheeky grin that always made her smile. It worked, her lips twitching up even as she shook her head.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, imp."

"Oh, this one I will. Cross my heart."

After all, Jack reflected as he headed upstairs with Jane, there were much worse things in the world than to be owned by the Witch of Burgess.


	2. Chapter 2: Valentine's Day

**_Disclaimer and Warnings are on the first chapter._**

**Warnings:** Additional warnings for this chapter include images of grieving, PTSD, survivor's guilt, and child dealing with the death of a sibling (do I really need to warn about that?).

**Notes:** Here's the second chapter. This one is, uh, very much a good example of why I warned you about mood-whiplash in chapter one.

* * *

**_Chapter Two: Valentine's Day_**

"Phil, why are you insisting I take bath and wear nice suit? Is just meeting with fellow Guardians," Nicholas St. North, better known as Santa Claus, asked.

The yeti named Phil muttered in confusion at North's words before shaking his head and pointing at a calendar hanging on the wall. North waved him away without looking at the calendar.

"Yes, yes, I know is early in year for meeting, but Sandy insisted. ...why _do_ you insist on bath and nice suit if you are not knowing about meeting?"

Phil sighed before grumbling and pointing at the steaming bath.

"Fine. Fine. I will take bath."

When E. Aster Bunnymund arrived at Santoff Claussen an hour later, it was to the sight of Phil finishing primping an irritated North.

"Well, look at you swanning about. You know you don't have to dress up on our account."

"I know! But Phil insisted," North said as he took advantage of Aster's arrival to break free of the yeti's attentions. "Do you know what meeting is about?"

Aster ignored Phil slapping a hairbrush menacingly against his open palm as he said, "No clue, mate. Sandy's been mum, as usual."

"Probably have something to do with what happened last night," North mused.

"What happened last night?" Aster asked, confused.

"I do not know," North replied with a shrug. "But I could feel it in my belly. I was this close," he said, pinching his thumb and finger a hairsbreadth apart, "to grabbing my swords and dealing with it, whatever it was, but then it was gone."

"You think Sandy knows what it was?"

"We find out soon enough!" North said, slapping Aster's back hard enough to make the pooka stumble. "In meantime, you would like eggnog and cookies, yes?"

"Nah, thanks. I'm ace."

Toothiana fluttered in as they headed for the room they always met in.

"Hi, guys!" she said cheerily in between giving her mini-fairies instructions, "I saw Sandy just a bit ago. He should be here in a minute." Sure enough, as soon as she'd finished, Sanderson Mansnoozie, the Sandman himself, appeared in a cloud of gold dust. He waved happily at them as they all settled in.

"Can we make this quick? Easter's early this year and I've still got prep to do," Aster said as they gathered round the table.

Sandy nodded and got started on why he'd called a meeting, images formed of his sand floating over his head.

"Jack Frost?" North said, looking surprised by Sandy's opening images.

"Oh, is it true his teeth are as white as snow?" Tooth asked suddenly, twitching excitedly in her seat.

"What's that bludger got to do with anything?" Aster asked, giving Tooth a look at her question.

Sandy formed two images, one obviously Pitch Black and the other apparently Jack Frost. The image of Pitch attacked the image of Frost before a third figure representing Sandy intervened.

"How is Jack?" North rumbled, frowning and combing his fingers through his thick beard.

Sandy formed an image of a tangled knot. Menacing looking hands flickered over the knot but fled when the knot shrank in on itself. Aster had no clue what that meant and, going by her confused expression, neither did Tooth. North did, however, because he relaxed.

"Then everything is all right!" he boomed, smiling. Sandy shook his head and created a new image. A nightmare that proceeded to splint into two before multiplying alarmingly quick. Aster frowned and fingered his boomerang. That many nightmares didn't bode well for anybody.

"I don't like this," Tooth admitted. "If Pitch really has that many nightmares and feels strong enough to attack other spirits, then he's going to try something soon." Sandy nodded in agreement.

"So we'll keep a Captain Cook out for nightmares and Pitch attacking anyone else," Aster replied.

"You mean Sandy and I will keep a look out," Tooth pointed out, feathers fluffing out in irritation.

"Well, you do have the widest range out of all of us. Bunny and I have work to do that makes it difficult to keep eye on everywhere," North explained.

Tooth deflated.

"I know," she admitted. "I'll have my girls keep an eye out. But we should meet up regularly for a little while so we can report anything we see! And I mean like once a week, not once every decade."

Aster winced at the thought of losing even more time from his pre-holiday prep but nodded anyway.

"Good! We will meet here at same time next week," North proclaimed, standing up so he could slam his hands on the table, "But before you go, you must eat! You are all far too skinny."

"And you're too fat," Aster muttered only to blink in surprise and then smile in amusement when several yetis ambushed North.

"What? What is wrong? WHAT?! Why are you not telling me today is Valentine's Day?!" North paused when he realized Aster, Tooth, and Sandy were all staring at him. He gave them an oddly sheepish look and said, "I... must be going, but feel free to enjoy the hospitality of Santoff Claussen!" Then North was out of room, yelling orders at his yetis as he moved at a startling swift pace.

"Where's he in such a hurry to get to?" Aster asked. Tooth's mini-fairies shrugged.

"On Valentine's Day? It's probably not so much a where as a who," Tooth replied speculatively. Aster realized she was right and that one of them hadn't seemed surprised by this revelation at all. He quickly rounded on Sandy, who immediately and suspiciously formed a halo and angel wings above his head even as he gave them his most innocent smile.

"You know who it is! Please, tell us, Sandy!" Tooth begged. The former star shook his head.

"Please? Please, please please?" Tooth repeated, giving her best puppy-dog eyes even as her girls joined in the pleading. Sandy started to cave before straightening up and holding out a hand, an image of gold coins appearing over his head.

"You want something in return, huh?" Aster said, folding his arms across his chest. Sandy gave a confirmatory nod.

"How about this? Tooth and I won't bother you about your excessive eggnog consumption for the next decade," Aster offered. Sandy raised an eyebrow.

"The next fifty years?" The other eyebrow rose as well.

"Fine, the next century," Aster conceded. Sandy grinned at him and made an image of a map, pointing at a specific town.

"I know the place. Last one there's a rotten egg!" With that, Aster tapped a hole open under him and disappeared into his tunnels.

Aster was fairly certain he'd arrived in town first, but not knowing where exactly in town he was supposed to be, lost several seconds locating Sandy, who had been followed by Tooth. He found them on the edge of some woods outside a bakery had already closed for the evening.

"Right. Several good hiding places here. Tooth, can you get rid of your girls for a tad?"

"Oh, yes," she agreed before rapidly firing off instructions. The mini-fairies saluted and took off, leaving the three Guardians alone and waiting for the fourth to show up. And he showed up all right. There was no sign of the sleigh, only the warping of reality that indicated one of North's portals before the man himself stepped out, quickly fussing with his clothes and beard, before he headed up the walk and to the door of the bakery.

"Are those flowers?" Took asked, indicating the purple, paper-wrapped bundle North held even as he reached up with his free hand to ring the silver bell hanging above the door. Sandy put a finger to his lips and glared up at her.

"Right. Don't wanna scare off North before we catch a glimpse of this sheila who nabbed his eye," Aster agreed quietly.

"Oh, this is so exciting!" Tooth whispered, practically vibrating. A light came on in the bakery proper and the door was soon answered by a lovely older woman, hale and healthy, who moved with power and grace in spite of her apparent age and weight.

"You're late," she said, a hint of laughter in her tone despite her words.

"Forgive me, _solnishka_. I had a meeting, but I am here now. And these are for you." North sketched a bow, brandishing the bouquet with a flourish. The woman accepted it with a please smile and unwrapped the paper. Her laugh was partially surprised but mostly delighted as her action revealed a rainbow's worth of plush unicorns, each one attached to a green-painted "stem".

"A blessing of unicorns!" she finally managed through her laughter.

"Is better! Look!" North gently detached a little unicorn from its stem and proceeded to pose it so it stood on three feet on his palm, the fourth out-stretched. North then gently bumped his fist against the out-stretched hoof. Tooth's hands flew to her mouth as she tried not to giggle, Aster's eyebrow rose, and Sandy had a confused look and a question mark floating over his head, but the woman let out a peal of laughter that sounded like the bell over her door.

"Oh, you wonderful man!" she said, kissing North's cheek and causing a pleased blush to appear on his face, "You even watched the show!"

"Of course! Is good show! And you recommended it!"

"Well, come on in! Don't stand on the doorstep."

Aster decided at this moment to risk moving closer. Perhaps he could sneak in behind North while his attention was on the woman? Despite being able to see North, the woman smelled human from this distance, so she probably wouldn't notice. And that's when a pile of snow landed on top of him, accompanied by the sound of very familiar sniggering.

"You!" Aster roared as he leapt out of the new drift and made a grab for the bare feet of the boy floating above him. Jack Frost dodged out of the way with a smirk and moved to hover over North and his paramour who, Aster realized in dismay, were looking right at him.

"I think you had a few stowaways in your sleigh, big guy," Jack said. That seemed to jerk the woman into action because the next thing Aster knew, he, Tooth, and Sandy were being rounded up and herded into the bakery.

"Come on in! Have a seat! It's such a pleasure to meet you! Oh, wait here! I'll go get some refreshments!"

Aster found himself seated at a table with his fellow Guardians and one Jack Frost who was sporting a very amused look. North, however, had a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Bunny! Tooth! Sandy! What bring you here?"

"Well, uh..." Tooth trailed off, flinching. Sandy was gesturing wildly at the images over his head, making it as clear as he could that he'd been bribed. Aster spared him a glare before North's paramour burst back in from what was apparently the kitchen.

"Here we are! Pecan sandies for you, seed cake for you – sugar-free, of course – and carrot cake cupcakes for you!"

Tooth positively lit up at "sugar-free" and Sandy was already making headway with his cookies, so Aster decided to at least be polite and try his cupcakes. He then bit back a moan as the flavor of the best carrot cake he'd ever tasted flooded his taste buds.

"Mmm! These are really, really good," Tooth said, "What's your secret?"

"Love, dear," was the reply, complete with wink, as she set a large plate of cookies in front of North.

"Hey, where's mine?" Jack whined right before the baker shoved a cookie in his mouth, shutting him up. Aster chuckled. He was starting to really like the lady.

"So!" North boomed, "What brings you here, my friends?"

Aster cleared his throat and explained, "We were wondering what – or who, rather – would make you cut out so fast on Valentine's Day."

"Ah, is simple!" North declared as the baker moved around the table. He swept her into his arms and said, "This is my wife, Jane St. North."

"Wife?!" Aster and Tooth echoed. Sandy, Aster noticed, was unsurprised.

"When did that happen?" Aster managed to ask.

"Over two hundred years now," Jane replied even as she took North's hand in hers and gave him a fond smile.

"But... how? You're human! Or you feel human," Tooth said. Aster, however, had finally started registering exactly what the pictures on the wall were of. Every single one had Jane, already an old lady, and a brown-haired boy who looked an awful lot like Jack Frost.

"Ah, it is a long story. Very sad, but has happy ending!" North said.

"How long have you known, Sandy?" Aster asked.

"Sandy was there at wedding! Would have invited you, but it needed to be a very quick wedding and Sandy and Jack were already there and could be witness."

Tooth looked as flabbergasted as Aster felt when she squeaked, "Quick wedding?" and looked at Jane's midriff.

"Not that kind of quick, dear. I was long past child-bearing age before I met Nicholas."

"What aren't you telling us, mate? And what's with the dark-haired Frostbite in the pictures?"

"Is not my story to tell," North admitted uneasily.

"It's mine, and I'll tell it if you like," Jane said.

"Whoa! Hold on!" Jack protested fiercely before giving Jane an oddly lost look. "Are you sure?"

"Nicholas trusts them. I think we should too," Jane replied even as Sandy nodded vigorously and gave them two thumbs up.

"I was born a little over three hundred years ago as Jane Constance Overland and for as long as I could remember, my older brother Jackson was the most important person in my life. Which is why, at eight years old, I was absolutely devastated when he drowned saving my life in a skating accident."

_300 years earlier_

Jane woke with a gasp and promptly burst into silent tears, hands to her mouth to muffle her sobs. She didn't want to wake her parents in the big bed next to her trundle bed. It wasn't their fault Jack had always been the one to shake a stick menacingly under the big bed after pulling out the trundle to scare away the monster that liked to hide underneath. It wasn't their fault the trundle felt too big and too cold and too scary without Jack there to wrap himself around her. It wasn't their fault Jack was normally the one to deal with her night terrors. And it wasn't their fault she kept having nightmare after nightmare where she watched Jack fall through the ice and die. After all, it wasn't their fault Jack was dead. It was hers.

It hadn't been so bad when winter was still around. It had been too cold and they had needed the comfort too much for any of them to sleep alone. Now that spring was giving way to summer, however, Jane had been relegated back to the trundle bed and her night terrors had increased tenfold. And so Jane sat alone on her bed and silently tried to slow her frightened tears.

The clock Jane's mother so proudly wound up every day said it was three, the witching hour, and well into second sleep when Jane saw the glowing eyes under the big bed and realized to her horror that with Jack gone, no one had bother scaring away the monster under the bed. Worse, there was no Jack to place himself bravely between her and the monster, no Jack to save her this time, and so Jane screamed, waking her parents. She burst into tears when the candlelight chased away the shadows and the glowing eyes and she refused to sleep in the trundle bed for the rest of the night.

The next night, the sound of her parents quietly talking woke Jane from her first sleep and she hadn't been able to fall asleep again even as she heard them settle in for their second sleep. She didn't know precisely why she did it, but, as her mother's clock struck three, Jane slipped out of the house, not wanting to stay in the empty-feeling trundle bed far too close to where the monster hid. She found herself wandering the path in the woods, eyes darting as she checked every shadow thoroughly as she walked. The woods were creepy in the dark, the moon having set long before, and she kept jumping at odd shapes and sounds. Not for the first time, Jane wondered what she was doing out there.

Without really meaning to, she ended up at the lake. It had been abandoned since the accident. The men hadn't dared tread on the thin ice, even to dredge up the dead body of her brother. A cold snap that first night had refrozen the lake practically solid, making retrieval of the body impossible until it finally thawed in late spring. By that time... well, after trying for hours, the men finally admitted defeat and whispered where they thought she couldn't hear that it wasn't a surprise. Soft things didn't tend to remain intact for long in the water. There was a grave in the small graveyard attached to the only church in town, but Jane knew full well it was empty of anything except a few of Jack's prized possession and flowers that were surely long dead by now. So she came here for much the same reason everyone else avoided it. Around this time last year, the pond was usually where children splashed and played. This year, no one dared. It felt disrespectful to disturb the pond, not to mention the worry of catching bad humors from water a body had rotted in.

Jane flopped down on a conveniently placed rock, the same one, she realized in dismay, she'd sat on to put on her skates that day. For several long minutes she debated getting back up but instead she ended up just staring at the placid pond, which was just a pool of black in the middle of the already dark landscape, until tears blurred her sight and sniffles hitched her breath. It was rage that finally brought her back to her feet.

"You fool! You stupid, stupid idiot! I hate you! You lied! You lied to me! You said everything would be all right and it's not! You weren't supposed to die!" Jane's breath hitched again as her tears, hard and angry choked her. "You weren't supposed to die for me," she finished in a whisper.

"So this is why you came? _This_ is why you braved the forest tonight? To yell at your brother, who dies nightly in your dreams and can't even hear you? How... pathetic."

The smooth, foreign voice froze the fires of Jane's fury with pure fear and for one long moment, Jane wondered if she'd fallen into the lake because she can't _breathe_. Slowly, shaking, she turned and saw, hidden in the twisted shadows of the trees, the hell-fire eyes of the monster under the bed looking at her. Except it wasn't under the bed anymore, was it? Worse, it was blocking the path home.

"You... you..."

"Me," it agreed in that voice that reminded Jane oddly of honey. The monster moved forward and the shadows took the shape of a man with hair like midnight, skin like a thunderstorm, and teeth like a wolf. The hell-fire eyes stared at her unblinking, marking the thing as inhuman in a way its appearance did not.

"Y-you're the monster from under the bed," Jane stammered.

"Amongst many other things, yes," the monster agreed, gliding closer in a way something with two legs could never manage. Jane squeaked and stumbled back until one foot stepped in the water. She yanked her wet foot out of the pond with a soft cry and then froze. Fear of drowning in the pond like Jack kept her from fleeing back and the monster standing right in front of her blocked any other avenue of escape. _Jack, please save me!_ her mind wailed, but he wasn't coming and it was all her fault.

"Poor Jane," the creature hissed as it loomed over her, "You've always believed in me, but Jack's not here to chase me away anymore, is he?"

Jane choked on a sob, overwhelmed by fear and grief.

"Would you like him back?"

Jane felt time freeze even as her thick tongue managed to form a single word. "What?"

"Would you like him back?" the dark man repeated for her benefit.

"Jack's in heaven," Jane said even as doubt niggled at her.

"Is he really? You don't _believe_ that, do you? No, you don't. Not after all the times the priest has promised fire and brimstone if Jack didn't shape up. He never did, either, did he? And it's not as if he received a proper burial, now is it? Or you would've gone to the grave in the churchyard and not out here, where they left him to rot." The smooth voice ended on a harsh note as the dark man voiced all of her doubts and fears. It continued on, voice honey-sweet once more, "But I can give him back to you. Why, you'd be doing him a favor! Giving him a second chance."

The monster took Jane's hand, making her jump, and pressed a tiny glass bottle complete with stopper against her palm before gently forcing her fingers to wrap around it.

"All you have to do is come back here at moonset on All Hallow's Eve and have with you these three things: a lock of your hair cut from your head by your own hand with a pair of bone scissors, a piece of parchment upon with you've written your name in your blood, and that bottle filled with your tears." He smiled at her, wide and wicked.

"I'll leave you to think about it." Then he shoved her back, making Jane stumble into the water of the pond. Once she caught her balance, Jane realized she couldn't see him any longer. She'd just started to relax when a pair of hands grabbed her ankles from under the water and dragged her into the dark depths of the pond. Jane opened her mouth to scream and swallowed water. She struggled to right herself, to free herself from the icy grasp and opened her eyes with a gasp. She shivered and panted, realizing the only wetness she could feel was her own sweat and that she was sitting upright on the trundle bed even as her mother's clock struck three. Had she even left the house or had it all been a nightmare? Jane didn't know, but the pain in her hand when she tried to make a fist made her look down in surprise and fear when she realized she was still holding the vial the dark man had given her.

* * *

**End Notes:**

Told you Jane technically isn't an OC. :D

I wish the plushy unicorn bouquet was my idea, but someone else already thought of it first and put it up for sale. That's right, you can buy a bouquet of plushy unicorns you can pose. Hee!

North calls Jane _solnishka_, which is a Russian form of endearment and, like many Russian forms of endearment, it sounds very odd when you translate it literally into English. He's basically calling her his little sun. Bunnymund's Aussie slang, in comparison, should be pretty easy to infer, but if you have any questions, let me know.

The whole "first sleep" and "second sleep" is actually a reference to what is known as "segmented sleep" and it's actually how the vast majority of the human race slept before the Industrial Revolution started forcing people off of their natural clocks. While it's probably not the source of the problem in all cases of insomnia, quite a few people could probably be cured if they just let their body do what it wanted.

As for the whole religious thing in here? Well, Pitch makes for an awesome devil when he's allowed the proper leeway. I will note that I don't agree with the fire and brimstone thing, despite identifying as Christian, but that was a big thing back then and likely what Jack and Jane grew up hearing unless they were Quakers.

So, um, tell me what you think?


	3. Chapter 3: Grief

**Warnings:** This chapter deals with PTSD and survivor's guilt, including the accompanying flashbacks. If you think you might have troubles dealing with a certain canonical death going into more detail, you might want to sit this chapter out.

* * *

_**Chapter Three: Grief**_

The next few months went horribly slow and terrifyingly fast for Jane. She'd looked for and not found comfort in Pastor Smith's sermons and she'd not dared approach him privately least he confirm her fears. The next time she'd cried, she'd caught some of her tears in the small bottle and, to her surprise, she'd been dry-eyed in her sorrow ever since. It was as if she couldn't cry any longer now that she'd bottled her tears. Cutting her hair had been next. Late that summer, she'd carefully stolen Goody Merrick's bone-handled scissors, hoping desperately that the blades didn't need to be bone as well. With them, she snipped off a lock of hair at the nape of her neck where its loss would be hidden by the rest of her hair. It was the last requirement that made Jane baulk. Writing materials were difficult to find and expensive to boot in their little village on the edge of civilization. There was only one way to get parchment and that would be ripping it out of someone's zealously guarded bible. Stealing the scissors was bad enough, even if she had sneaked them back with no one the wiser. Damaging a bible and writing on it in blood was much more blasphemous. Jane probably would have never finished the last requirement if her dreams hadn't changed as the air grew chill with the onset of autumn.

The night of the first winter frost, she found herself standing on the thin ice of the frozen pond. A booming sound made her look down in fear, expecting to see cracks forming under her ice skates. To her horror, there were no cracks in the ice but something much worse. Beneath the clear, warped ice was her brother's face, twisted in fear as he pounded desperately against the ice.

_Boom. Boom._

"Jack!" she screamed as she fell to her knees and starting clawing at the ice the same way she had that day. And exactly the same way as before, she watched the light leave his eyes and his body disappear in the dark depths of the pond even as she yelled and cried and scrabbled at the solid ice until her fingers bled. When it had happened, it had been Hiram Pierce who'd pulled her off the ice and away from where she'd last seen Jack, her cries having alerted the men as they returned from hunting. She'd fought against him, screaming for her brother and she fought now against the arms shaking her awake.

"Jane! Jane, child, you can't keep doing this!" her mother whispered fiercely as she pulled Jane into a hug. And Jane, sobbing into her mother's shoulder, just felt guilty at waking her parents once again.

* * *

Pastor Smith found himself at a loss about what to do for little Jane Overland, who was obviously still traumatized by witnessing her brother's death. Pastor Smith had _liked_ Jackson and had only given the boy so many lectures about propriety because he'd wanted so badly to see the rascally ball of sunshine grow into a good and fine man. Jackson had been at an odd age compared to the rest of the village. The previous generation were all a decade or more older than him and had treated him as a child even as he grew older. The next generation were all much younger than him and hadn't wanted him to grow up and stop playing with them. As a result, Jackson had been permitted childish behavior for much longer than was normal. The oldest generations often grumbled that he should have settled down by now, even if it meant leaving the village to find a proper wife, but none of them really meant it. The idea of losing the one that brought smiles to faces and laughter to voices had always made them pause and concede that perhaps it could wait. It had made losing him permanently that much harder. Now Jackson Overland would and would also likely always remain a child in most people's minds. Which wasn't to say Jackson hadn't been responsible. He had been very responsible and had proudly taken over the duties of keeping watch over the children he played with, keeping their spirits high even as he kept their bodies safe. And while it was horrible that Jackson had died, Pastor Smith honestly couldn't see him going any other way. Putting that in words, he knew, wouldn't help Jane.

Jane's parents were starting to worry a demon was gnawing at their daughter's mind, her dreams making it impossible for her to properly grieve and move on. She no longer cried, Pastor Smith knew, but she no longer smiled either. She had stopped playing with the other children and had instead withdrawn from everyone, even her parents, who were quickly reaching the end of their ropes. If he was honest, so was Pastor Smith. It had taken quite some doing to get her here before him, alone and without her parents frightening her out of speaking even further. While Pastor Smith had no problems with the concept that one should only speak when spoken to in general, in specifics he found it rather frustrating for how else was one supposed to start a conversation?

"Jane," Pastor Smith started before hesitating. Should he? Yes, he should. Plowing on with determination, he said, "Your parents tell me you are having nightmares about Jackson."

"I don't mean to," Jane suddenly said, a look of guilt-stricken panic crossing her face and breaking Pastor Smith's heart, "They just happen!"

Pastor Smith pursed his lips. He couldn't tell her it was all right to have the nightmares because they'd both know it was a lie, would be a lie about why she was here to begin with, but oh, how he hated the fear in her eyes.

"I know you don't. That is why I am here, to help you find a way to be rid of this demon plaguing you," he pronounced, trying to come across as self-assured. He would've tried being gentler if he'd been aware that his fierce, stern appearance and tendency to talk about hell-fire scared the younger children. Jane looked down and fidgeted with her thumbs as she bit her lip.

"Are there any particular images you dream about? Or thoughts that bother you no matter how you try to set them aside?" Pastor Smith tried, wanting to do right by this child and not knowing how. Perhaps an exorcism? But that was more a Catholic tradition and while Pastor Smith was many things, Catholic wasn't one of them. He wouldn't know where to begin. He was better at scaring his flock down the path of the straight and narrow and assuring them that God's love would see them to the end. He felt a surge of relief when Jane's movements stilled for a long moment before she responded to the question.

"Yes. I..." Jane stopped and grimaced before finally looking up at him. "Pastor Smith, can Jack go to heaven if he isn't buried in the graveyard?"

Pastor Smith paused, struggling for an appropriate response. He hated the thought of giving someone a reason to think being buried away from the church was a good thing, but he didn't want to think Jackson, of all people, would be denied heaven because of something that wasn't his fault. All the men in the village knew something must have broken the ice and dragged the body away before they could try retrieving it, be it a wolf, bear, or wild cat. The men were even now keeping an eye out for a beast with a taste for human flesh but, not wanting their wives and children to bear the thought of a child's bones scattered and forever defiled, had carefully spread the lie that Jackson Overland even now rested at the bottom of the pond. Pastor Smith had frowned at the lie but hadn't called them out on it, understanding the motivation and hoping the idea the pond was a grave would keep the young and foolish from approaching its cursed waters. Finally, he settled on giving Jane his kindest smile and lying.

"While it is best to be near the church, God understands the circumstances and led me to bless the pond much as he led me to bless the church and its grounds. His soul is safe and sound."

An odd look crossed the girl's face before she looked down and hid her expression. She left not long after, muttering something about chores and he let her go, knowing there was nothing else he could do this day. He only hoped that his words had provided some comfort. Jane, however, had noticed his hesitation and sensed that a lie followed it and, not knowing his thoughts or even all that he knew, had formed a much worse picture thanks to Pastor Smith's words. She didn't catch the pastor's lie had been about his actions and instead she thought he had lied about the bit at the end, a lie whose truth confirmed her greatest fear. Jack wasn't in heaven and the dark man hadn't been lying.

Jane's parents and Pastor Smith would very quickly and rather foolishly stop worrying about her after her talk with the priest. They believed the reason for her new, steadfast approach to life had been the result of Pastor Smith's words offering her comfort. They hadn't comforted her, but instead a strong sense of determination filled her. Jack had died saving her, but now he was in trouble and Jane knew exactly what she needed to do to save him in return. Her dreams that night and for every night there after until All Hallow's Eve were of her dying to save Jack. She would, if necessary, and the dreams just made her all the more proud and tenacious. In comparison, desecrating a bible was nothing.

* * *

Pitch Black watched this strange child who took strength from her nightmares from his place under the bed. His plan was working remarkably well. The girl was and always had been one of his few true believers. Before this past winter, however, that had been tempered by her equally firm belief that her brave older brother could banish the presence of the Boogieman himself. It had galled and frustrated him to no end, to be kept from feasting on this one believer. Had he more, Pitch would never have noticed, but with so few to sustain him, he had been very aware and often found himself cursing the older brother's very existence. This was no adult shushing their child and telling them not to believe. This was a child's belief in her brother being stronger than her belief in the Boogieman and it vexed Pitch considerably.

Then, suddenly, her belief was no longer caged by that other, stronger belief and Pitch had hied forth in exultation to feast upon her fear. And while he supped on that sweet sense of dread, he'd learned why. Brave older brother was no more and his little believer had witnessed his end. How delightfully ironic it was that her nightmares were of the one who'd once prevented them. He'd dined well that night, and gained power enough to create a new nightmare. He'd named her Ebony, because he was a firm believer in the power of Names, and he'd just sent her out to terrorize more believers into existence when her swift death rolled through him. Shifting through his shadows to where he could see but not be seen, he saw to his astonishment the same boy whose death he'd just witnessed in nightmare form. There were differences, of course. The boy was obviously a spirit or sprite of some sort now, and Pitch Black decided it would be best to keep an eye on this one.

Pitch Black quickly deduced that this new spirit, this Jack Frost, was a winter spirit and much more powerful than a simple sprite. His powers sans any believers put him on par with the great nature spirits, second only to Mother Nature herself. Pitch probably would have backed off at that point – Mother Nature was someone he both respected and feared – except the spirit of winter apparently got it in his head that he needed to sleep the way the humans did and it was too tempting not to tamper with his dream and turn it dark. Pulling up his greatest fears was easy and it had shocked Pitch. The boy had yet to meet any other spirits and was lost and alone. He knew that the moon had brought him forth and named him, but he didn't know why. He didn't remember dying. He didn't remember his previous life at all and it had been pure luck – good on his and bad on Pitch's – that had led him to destroying Ebony. A moon-called spirit this powerful had the potential to become a Guardian and Pitch Black's careful, hidden watch on this new spirit doubled.

Pitch Black had needed to feed – hiding from a spirit, even one as new and naïve as Jack Frost, took energy – and so he'd risked a few nightmares in the spirit's general location. Of the four Pitch had sent out, only two returned. One had been destroyed outright by Jack Frost's powers – apparently the spirit did not like the nightmares – and the last one had been erased from existence by a child's fear turning into joy and laughter.

Somehow, Jack Frost had the ability to make even the most frightening circumstances _fun_ and in doing so could make fear cease to exist. A potential Guardian that could destroy fear? Oh, that wouldn't do at all. What was more, he was an elemental spirit. Even if he tied his vast powers to belief, so long as people believed in Winter he would remain alive and powerful, even if no one ever saw him. People believing in Jack Frost specifically would just make him stronger, dangerously so in Pitch's opinion. Unless... that power could be turned to Pitch's will. He had been wondering if he could turn the naïve spirit to his side before discovering this alarming ability. Cold and dark worked so well together, after all. The trick would be in preventing Jack from using that ability, from making fear _fun_. Pitch didn't trust the spirit to keep his word – Jack was already far too protective of the children he encountered, even if they didn't believe in him – but there were ways Pitch could bind the winter spirit into obeying him. Unfortunately the best binding for what Pitch had planned required the one being bound to enter it willingly and knowingly.

It was, Pitch thought, a good thing he'd already had an idea to get past that regrettable requirement. As the seasons changed and forced the winter spirit to unknowingly leave behind the person who required his protection the most, Pitch had set his plan in motion. The child had collected the ingredients for the first spell, All Hallow's Eve was just around the corner, and the stage would be set for the second part of his plotting. Jane Overland was proving most useful. Pitch leaned toward the girl, a frown twisting her expression as she slept, and he drank her fear. Most useful indeed.

* * *

**Notes:** Please don't think too badly of the adults in Jane's life at this point in time. They're living in a time period where psychologists don't exist in their location and even if they did, psychologists were still a century away from figuring out what _stress_ was, and two centuries from beginning to understand PTSD and survivor's guilt. They mean well but they honestly wouldn't have a clue.


	4. Chapter 4: Striking A Deal

**Notes:** You guys are either going to love me or hate me for this chapter. Maybe both.

* * *

_**Chapter 4: Striking A Deal**_

Jane spent All Hallow's Eve a nervous, anticipatory wreck. No one noticed because all of the children in the village were as they looked forward to the harvest feast and scary stories that would occur that evening. Jane's own motivations were mistaken as being the same as her peers and, as the day progressed, she managed to calm down enough to actually have some fun. After all, it wouldn't do to save Jack that night only to have him tease her about how she'd grown all old and boring since he'd last seen her. Jane couldn't imagine anything worse than disappointing him.

The festivities went until well after dark but wound down before midnight. It wouldn't do to be out merry-making in the early hours of All Saints' Day after all. The dead might take umbrage. For a panic-stricken moment, Jane wondered if she had been supposed to go to the lake the night before, until she reassured herself that this evening, when the world between living and dead was at it's weakest, was the best time to bring Jack back. As her parents settled in for first sleep, Jane stayed awake until the sound of their sleep filled the cabin and she rose and dressed as quietly as she could. Then she took the three requested items from their safe place in her sewing basket and she left the cabin. At the pond, she sat on her stone and watched the moon reflected in the water until she fell asleep.

"Good. You're here."

Jane startled awake and peered blearily at the stark darkness that occurred after moonset. She saw the monster's eyes and teeth first as he prowled the dark like some great beast before he stepped forward into dim starlight, once again looking disturbingly not-quite human. He gave her a wolf's grin and Jane found herself doubting her actions once again.

"Do you have the items?" the dark man asked and Jane frowned but nodded, clutching said items close to her chest.

"Give them to me," the dark man said, holding out a hand.

"Not until you give me your word that you'll bring Jack back to life exactly the way he was before he died and that he'll stay that way until em_I_/em die," Jane countered even as she shifted one shoulder back to further protect the items she held. The dark man paused, eyes flickering oddly but still unblinking (it frightened her that he didn't blink), before he smiled even wider, sharp teeth all on display.

"Very well. Before the ending of this year, I, Pitch Black, vow to give Jane Overland her brother, alive and intact and exactly the way he was before dying and to ever remain so until she dies... in exchange for what I want."

"You can't take my soul," Jane stated quickly before adding, "Nor my body nor my life." Pitch Black laughed.

"Of course not. What I'm interested in is something you don't have."

"Then... how am I supposed to do the exchange?" Jane asked, confused.

"Just because you don't have it now doesn't mean you cannot get it. And now is the time to fetch it."

"What is it?"

"There is a spirit, the Spirit of Winter, who is also known as Jack Frost. He has a staff, a broken tree-bough, really, shaped like a shepherd's crook. I want that staff."

"And give you the power of winter itself?" Jane said, alarmed.

"No, child. The power of winter belongs to that spirit alone – none can take that from him. The staff is merely a conduit. It lets him use his inherent powers with much more ease than otherwise," Pitch explained. "He can use his powers without it – you humans would probably only notice a few milder winters as he learned to use his powers with no conduit."

"Then... what good would the staff be to you?"

"If he doesn't want to learn to be without the staff, if he asks me for its return, I can do so and he would owe me a favor and a favor between immortals is worth so much more than anything you can give me, child."

That didn't sound too bad. The village might even get a few mild winters out of it. Jane could only see one problem.

"How do I get the staff?"

"Why you go out on the night of the first snow of winter and call the spirit's name. When he shows, you walk up to the spirit, tell him everything, and ask for the staff."

"And he'll give it to me?" Jane asked incredulously.

"For this? I guarantee it," Pitch replied, smile wide and wicked, before he once again extended his hand. Jane looked down at the hand but didn't move. Pitch sighed.

"The items, child. I cannot begin the spell without them. By the time you have gained the staff, my part will be done or near enough to make no difference, but I cannot bring your brother back without the items. I have already given you my oath."

Jane frowned but nodded and held out the items, only to gasp when Pitch practically snatched them from her grasp. He gave her a smile and a bow.

"A pleasure doing business with you," he said before melting away into the shadows.

"Jane? Jane!" A hand shook her and Jane opened her eyes to find herself on the ground by the pond, which even now was reflecting the early morning light. Her mother, looking harried and frantic, was on her knees beside her.

"I... I'm sorry. It's just... It's All Saints and I thought if I came to the pond..." Jane only managed that much before her mother started crying and pulled Jane into an embrace. It made Jane cry too, or at least try. Her sobs were dry, but she clung to her mother anyway as they grieved together. It made the rest of Hallowmas and Jane's disappointment at not yet rescuing Jack easier to bear.

* * *

The first snow fell during the night in the middle of November. Jane had been about to fall into second sleep when her father returned from the outhouse cursing and brushing melting snowflakes from his nightwear. Instantly, Jane was wide awake with the knowledge she had a winter spirit to find. Waiting for her parents to fall into second sleep had never been so hard. She realized, to her surprise, that was because this was the first time she wasn't alarmed by the knowledge she was going to meet something supernatural. The dark man's reassurance that the winter spirit would more than willingly give her the staff she required made the winter spirit sound nice, like he would willingly help someone in need if asked politely. With that thought in mind, Jane dressed warmly once her parents were asleep once again and she wandered outside with a hopeful smile on her face.

"Jack Frost, Spirit of Winter, I call you!" Jane yelled once she was far enough from the village to not wake anyone. She believed it would work because the dark man had told her it would, and all who use magic know belief is both the simplest and most powerful spell there is. Because she believed Pitch Black's words, the spirit called _would_ come. What was more, she believed Jack Frost existed simply because she had been told he did. And so Jane stood with a smile, twirling in the snow, and called a few more times.

"What are you doing, yelling my name like that?"

Jane froze in the cold air as that voice reached her ears. She knew that voice the same way she knew the beat of her own heart.

"Jack?" she said, turning in the direction she'd heard the voice come from, where she knew someone was standing, only to come to a shocked stop. It was all wrong. He looked like her Jack except his hair was white and his eyes were blue and he was looking at her like he'd never seen her before. But his clothes were the same, even if they were rimed in ice, and he was holding that same stupid branch he'd used to fling her off of the thin ice. Jane was suddenly reminded of why making deals with monsters was a bad idea; they always lied about something. A part of her also theorized that maybe it wasn't her Jack, that this spirit who represented all of winter was simply taking a form that was familiar to her.

"That's my name, all right. Why are you...? Wait. Can you see me?" he asked, leaning in from where he'd perched on a rock right next to her.

"Yes. And hear you as well," Jane replied as she studied him.

"Really?" he asked, leaping gracefully down from the rock and landing almost but not quite clumsily. Dear Lord in Heaven, Jane thought, because he moved just like her Jack. When he gave her an expectant look, Jane just managed a small nod as she stared at him. Then suddenly he was crouched in front of her just outside her personal bubble, blue eyes scanning her and blinking rapidly as he took her in. Tentatively, he reached out and gave her shoulder a small push only to burst out in delighted laughter when she responded to his touch.

"I can touch you!" he crowed and it was his laughter that did Jane in, because only her Jack laughed like that. She felt tears burning in her eyes as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

"Whoa!" he cried out, flinching in surprise before his arms automatically encircled her and cradled her close.

"Jack! Oh, Jack, you're back! You've been gone for so long. Why did you leave?"

"I'm pretty certain that's what winter's supposed to do," he responded, utter confusion coloring his tone of voice. His bewilderment made Jane loosen her hold so she could look at him face-to-face.

"Don't you remember me?" she asked, fat tears rolling down her face.

"Hey, hey, don't cry," Jack said awkwardly, not answering the question.

"What do you remember about the lake?" Jane demanded. Jack hesitated. "Jack?"

"It was cold and dark and I was afraid and then the moon was there and it was bright and I wasn't afraid any longer. He told me my name was Jack Frost and that was it. No one else has been able to see or hear or touch me ever since then. Until now."

"Oh, Jack," Jane said, squeezing him gently even as she laid her head on his shoulder, ignoring how he was cold to the touch. "You don't remember anything before that, do you?"

"Before?"

"You were taking me ice skating but I didn't let you put on your skates and check the ice before I went out on the pond. Then the ice cracked and I was scared."

_(Elsewhere, one of the tooth fairies stationed at the palace noted a tooth box featuring the picture of a brown-haired boy with a mischievous smirk was glowing the way it did when its memories were needed. She darted in and pressed the box the way that was required before flying back to her station and scanning her section once again for more boxes like that one, never knowing what her action resulted in.)_

"We played hopscotch," Jack said suddenly, eyes and voice both distant as a memory suddenly surfaced in his mind, a memory he hadn't known he had.

"You hopped over to thicker ice and grabbed that branch you're holding," Jane agreed.

"And I snagged you with it, pulled you to safety. But I slid."

"You fell in," Jane said, voice thick with tears.

"Then I woke up," Jack amended before gently pulling her back to arm's length so he could look at her once again. She let him study her once again, noticing his eyes were looking at her differently this time.

"Jane?" he asked, sounding a little bit lost and looking it too. Jane nodded and managed a watery smile. Then he was holding her tightly and swinging them around in a circle, and their laughter was contagious as theyr spurred each other on.

"How did you know how to look for me? Strewth, how did you know my name?! It's different now," Jack eventually asked her once they'd both calmed down a little and had found a decent rock to sit on. Jane bit her lip and fidgeted.

"Jane? What did you do?" Jack asked, recognizing his little sister's guilty look now that he remembered her.

"I made a deal with the dark man," Jane blurted out.

"Dark man?" Jack said, frowning, "What dark man?"

Jane nearly demurred, not wanting to follow the dark man's instructions now that she knew he had to be lying about something, even if she wasn't certain what, but quickly decided having her big brother know everything might be for the best. So she told him.

* * *

"I don't like this. I really don't like that he has your name written in blood," Jack said once she'd finished.

"Do you know what he was lying about?" Jane asked.

Jack frowned and shook his head as he admitted, twisting his staff in his hands as he did, "The guy's really sneaky, I'll grant him that. If a little girl came up to me asking for my staff so she could save her big brother, I probably would've given it up in a heartbeat. He's right that it's just something that makes what I do easier, but I'm new enough that I barely know what I can do _with_ the staff, much less without it."

"So you probably would've asked for it back and owed him a favor."

"Yeah, except why would he promise you he'd bring me back to life and then send you straight to me to get the staff? Surely he has to know the brother he's being asked to raise from the dead is the same person whose staff he wants? Unless he didn't plan on actually raising me from the dead? But then I'd have no reason to give you the staff at all. Unless he does plan on bringing me back from the dead, but then the staff's useless both as an object and as a way to get something from me. Argh! None of this makes sense!" Jack said, giving his head a frustrated rub.

"Would the other spirits know?" Jane asked. Jack shrugged.

"I don't know. I've never met them. I haven't even met this dark man you made the deal with."

"How about we change that?"

Jane gasped and jumped in fear and Jack grabbed his staff, holding it like it was a weapon as he stood protectively between her and the newcomer. The dark man just smiled at them like a wolf.

"Who are you?" Jack demanded.

"Pitch Black is my name, but you are far more likely to recognize my titles. I am the King of Nightmares, Spirit of Fear, the Monster Under the Bed, the Boogieman, the Who when you whisper 'Who's there?'. I am the dark spaces between the stars and everything anyone has ever feared."

He gave the siblings a courtly bow without ever breaking eye contact. Around them a circle of shadows formed, taking odd shapes even as they stared with unblinking hellfire eyes. Jane whimpered at the sight of them and pressed closer to Jack. Jack's eyes flickered as he took in the shadows and the man they appeared to obey, and he scowled.

"You're the one behind those shadow creatures I keep seeing," Jack seethed.

"Yes, yes, the ones em_you_/em keep destroying," Pitch replied.

"Um, Jack? Maybe you should apologize," Jane suggested.

"I'm not going to apologize for preventing those things from terrorizing people."

"Oh, but fear's such an necessary emotion. It warns you to be still and silent when there's a predator nearby. Or to make sure the ice isn't too thin," Pitch replied, smile a sharp slash punctuating his words. Jack inhaled sharply through his nose but let it out slowly even as he turned to keep between the circling spirit and his newly found sister.

"What do you want?" Jack asked.

"Only to keep my end of the deal I made with little Jane over there," Pitch replied.

"Yeah, not buying it. You don't strike me as the sort to do something if you don't get something out of it, and I don't see how you could get anything out of this," Jack retorted. Pitch's smirk grew wider, which surprised Jack and Jane both because they hadn't been aware it could go wider. If they lived closer to the ocean, they would have compared his smile with a shark's.

"Oh, I'd get much more than you think."

"Like what?"

"You're new, so you don't know how things work yet, not really. But if dying once didn't stop the Man in the Moon from calling you to fulfill your new purpose, what makes you think dying a second time would?" Pitch said, slipping through the shadows as he paced the circle, although his smile turned smug when Jack reacted in surprise to his words. "All I'd be doing is giving you back the time with your sister that the Moon stole from you. And I'm old enough that her life span is but a drop in a bucket. She'll live for what? Sixty more years at the most? I can afford to wait that long for Jack Frost to rise again. And since I'd be keeping your staff safe in the meantime..."

"I'd owe you a favor," Jack replied darkly.

"Well... we immortals don't tend to do favors so much as binding oaths. It ensures the other party can't back out of a deal, you see."

"Binding oaths? What would that entail?"

"In exchange for my services, you would have to do what I requested until the terms of the oath are met."

"Jack?" Jane whispered.

"Shush," Jack replied, not unkindly, but distractedly. There was a catch hidden here, he knew there was, and it was a big one from the way the wind kept moaning at him to leave and kept trying to tug him away. "What if I turn you down? What if I decide not to go back to being Jackson Overland, even if would be a 'short time' to an immortal?"

"Then you don't and we are done," Pitch admitted, turning away with a blank look before looking over his shoulder with a leer as he pulled a piece of parchment from out of the nowhere that made his clothing. A piece of parchment that a had a familiar name written clumsily on it by a needle-pricked finger. "Of course, I'd then have to find a new use for this."

"Give it here!" Jack commanded.

"Without something in return? You need to work on your negotiation skills, Jack," Pitch replied, voice reverberating as he vanished among the circling shadows. "Do you like my fearlings? Some of them used to be human once, you know."

Jane shrieked when Pitch's face appeared without warning right next to hers, all sharp smiling teeth and hellfire eyes.

"Would you like to join them?"

Jane scrambled back even as a burst of bright white frost headed in Pitch's direction, only to hit a tree Jack would swear hadn't been there moments before. Eerie laughter echoed around them and the shadows surrounding them were still in that not still way shadows had, where you'd swear one was moving out of the corner of your eye but nothing would move when you looked right at it. Even with Jane joining him in keeping an eye on the shadows, Jack was pretty certain that his and Jane's little clearing in the center was getting smaller. He didn't know what to do. He'd spent the past year just figuring out the basics of what he could do with ice and snow and the winds at his back. It hadn't even occurred to him before now that he might one day need to be able to fight and Jack didn't know if just hitting a shadow hard with his staff would actually do anything to the shade at all. Then a black wraith shaped like a death's head rose up, maw gaping, and it headed right for Jane. Jack didn't even think. He just shoved Jane aside and swept his staff through the scary shape. His staff passed through like nothing was there but the death's head lost cohesion, like it was mist, before it solidified into tendrils that darted out and grabbed him. Jack yelped in surprise as he found himself being dragged towards a new, dark hole that was darker even than the shadows.

"Jack!" Jane yelled as she grabbed his staff and tried pulling him free only to be dragged as well.

"No!" Jack retorted, trying to kick free. He quickly realized he couldn't and he wasn't about to let Jane get pulled in too. He let go of the staff, causing Jane to fall on her bottom, clenching the wooden bough.

"JACK!"

Then the shadows were gone, Pitch Black and Jack Frost with them.

* * *

**Fun Note:** While All Hallow's Eve (or Halloween as we call it now) has been celebrated in Europe for centuries, there's no evidence it was celebrated in North America until the mid-1800s. The Puritans greatly disliked the Christian celebration of Hallowmas in general, considering it a form of ancestor worship. However, Burgess is likely located in either west Pennsylvania, west New York state, or east Ohio. Two out of three of those would've been Pennsylvania territory at the time Jack and Jane were born and Pennsylvania was set up to be religiously tolerant. Thus, while Halloween wouldn't be anything approaching mainstream in the United States until the mass Irish and Scottish immigration in the mid-1800s, it's still somewhat likely Jack and Jane celebrated it.


	5. Chapter 5: Changes and Exchanges

Sorry about this taking so long. I had part of this chapter written since before I posted the last one, but I kept procrastinating on it because it kept kicking my butt emotionally. I'm still not happy with it and I still feel emotionally drained from writing this. And of course the scene that drained me the most was the one I had to rewrite.

**Warnings for traumatized children this chapter.**

* * *

**_Chapter 5: Changes and Exchanges_**

It was dark and Jack couldn't quite determine if he was being smothered and suffocated by the shadows surrounding him, or if he was fighting his own imagination because it didn't feel like there was anything there, not even a floor or a wind to support him. Then it felt like a needle of black thread was piercing his skin and soul, sewing up something that had never been meant to be sewn. Jack screamed.

The moment the pain stopped, the shadows slammed Jack down into a strange circle that somehow glowed black in the dark cavern. Jack didn't know how he'd gotten into the cave and didn't care. He forced himself upright, ignoring the lingering sensation of utter misery, and moved to leave only to encounter an invisible wall that crackled with black lightning where he'd hit. A quick search revealed an invisible wall everywhere the circle was. He was trapped.

"You should have taken the deal. You would have had more control over the binding."

Jack hissed at the sound of the wretchedly familiar voice.

"I don't recall agreeing to a binding," Jack replied, using bravery to cover his fear.

"Oh, but Jack," the smooth voice taunted from the dark, "All you had to do to agree to your part of the deal was give your sister your staff. You were both holding it just moments ago and you agreed to everything the instant you let go. And since you didn't set any terms for the binding, I got to choose them."

"What?" Jack whispered in shock, not wanting to believe it but knowing it was true. He could feel it, tugging like threads in his soul. He shook his head and demanded, "What are the conditions?"

"You will obey my every command in all things and in all ways, until the Moon falls from the sky. Or one of us ceases to exist, whichever occurs first," Pitch said, finally appearing. He studied the nails of his hand rather than look at Jack, every inch of him suggesting he was humoring the other.

"So all I have to do is kill you to be free," Jack pointed out with a vicious smile. Pitch Black just laughed.

"You can't kill fear, Jack."

"I'll never obey you!"

"You will. The binding will enforce it," Pitch replied, unconcerned. He just wandered closer to the circle and placed a tiny stoppered bottle on a mark just outside the circle and thus Jack's reach.

"Oh, yeah? Prove it!"

"I would, but I have to finish my part of the deal first," Pitch said, flashing Jack a sharp smile as he set down a lock of brown hair bound in a frayed ribbon on a different mark a quarter of the way around the circle. Jack paused, recognizing the ribbon. Jane had cried when she was told it was too damaged for her to wear any longer and she had kept it in a little keepsake box ever since. Jack turned frantic eyes to the bottle, now realizing it matched Jane's description of the vial of her tears, before he looked back at Pitch in time to see him place the now familiar piece of parchment directly opposite the bottle.

"What are you doing?" he asked his captor, dread freezing in his veins.

"Your binding is contingent on my getting your staff from your sister and my deal with your sister requires I return you to her the way you were just before you died and for you to remain so until her death. I am merely making this so," Pitch said as he moved to stand opposite the lock of hair. "I wasn't lying when I said I could easily wait the span of her life for you to fulfill your part of the oath. After all, she never specified it had to be long life, just that _I_ couldn't take it."

Jack roared at Pitch's smug smile and swung at his face, only to hit the barrier instead. Black lightning flared from where he'd struck but Pitch just laughed and said a word that bubbled in Jack's brain and boiled in his blood. The winter spirit gasped at the sudden sensation of em_heat_/em flooding his body and nearly folded over where he stood. More words joined the first, hovering in the stale air like huge black bats and forcing Jack to his knees even as he gasped for breath. What happened next felt like dying in reverse, so it was really no wonder that Jack passed out before it was finished.

When it was over, Pitch paced the outside of the broken circle, scattering the ashes that were all that remained of the hair and parchment and crunching the shattered phial beneath his feet. He paid no attention to the mess in favor of studying the results of his work. A brown-haired boy slept the sleep of unconsciousness in the center of the circle. The heat of his body had already melted the frost and all of Pitch Black's senses claimed the boy was human.

"He'd make a wonderful Fearling Prince, don't you think?" Pitch asked the shadows, who replied with an affirmative susurrus. "A shame that will have to wait. Take him and bind him and when he wakes, make sure he has food and water. Feel free to feast upon his fear, but otherwise do not touch him. Right now he's worth more exactly as he is."

* * *

'Oh, my tears are back,' Jane thought absently, 'How strange.' Because it was strange, suddenly having wetness rolling down her face after so many months where even sobs had been dry. She had long since passed hysteria and headed into catatonic by the time the search party found her and cautiously approached. Jane just continued rocking back and forth where she was seated on the frozen ground, her hands clenching rhythmically on the length of wood she gripped even as she keened softly. The thought had actually been more of a subconscious notation than anything she was honestly aware of. She was crying and that was strange, but it didn't matter.

It didn't take long for the men to react. Jane would never remember who exactly picked her up, more fascinated by the fact the staff, despite looking dead and plain without the ice and frost, nevertheless still phased through the man like it was magic. She was too focused on keeping a hold of it to care that he brought her back to the village and turned her over to the bevy of waiting women who clucked over her worriedly like a clutch of hens. He didn't matter.

"Jane, dear. Jane, dear," the chicken-ladies kept saying but Jane didn't respond. They didn't matter. They took her clothes and put her in a warm bath they gradually made warmer and warmer before drying and dressing her like a fancy doll and putting her in a chair before a roaring fire. They looked at her worriedly, but never at the staff and the staff passed through them all like they weren't there even as they tried smelling salts and tempting her with little treats, hoping for a response, but it didn't matter.

Jane wasn't entirely certain why she was crying, not now. It didn't matter. What mattered was finding a way to sneak past the chicken-ladies clucking over her and the close eye her parents would no doubt be keeping and get to the pond once it was dark. The only thing that mattered was saving Jack.

Pitch Black hadn't been lying about Jack not being in heaven, Jane had realized, but despite that, Jack had been fine before she'd interfered. Well maybe not entirely fine, he'd obviously been lonely, but his body and soul were intact and he had been in no danger of that changing. He'd been safe and now, thanks to her, he wasn't. Jane stared down at the staff, at the way the light of the fire danced along the length of the dead, no longer icy wood and she clenched her hands around it again.

There was one way to set things right, Jane knew, but it was an awful, horrible plan. Jack for the staff. That had been the deal. It had always been the deal, long before Jane had become aware of what a bad deal it was. Pitch Black's actions had just ensured she would complete the exchange right when she doubted that she should. Jack for the staff. Her brother in exchange for the one thing that would allow him to protect himself. It was the worst plan ever, but it was the only one she had.

* * *

Jack woke up with a headache. He groaned at the sensation of something pounding in his head and it took him a long moment to realize that pounding sensation was the result of his heart beating. That was the point where his eyes flew open and he started taking a personal inventory because Pitch had said he was keeping his part of the deal and that meant making Jack _human_. He wouldn't be able to check his hair or eyes until he found a reflective surface, and he couldn't see his skin tone, both because his wrists and ankles had been bound together behind his back and to the pole keeping him upright and because it was too gloomy to make out proper colors anyway. Being forced to sit in a kneeling position was painful but Jack was no longer entirely certain if that was a human thing or something anyone forced into one position for too long went through. The only things different that he could immediately discern was his heart was beating and the frost was gone from his clothes.

Then the fearlings noticed Jack was awake. The first one pushed a cup against Jack's mouth and, when he refused to drink whatever the liquid was, pinched his nose shut. It was water, cold and sweet, but it was flowing from the cup and into his mouth too fast for Jack to properly swallow. He managed to pull away, coughing, before the creature could drown him, and ended with the rest of the cup of water spilling over him. He refused the mushrooms the other fearlings offered, certain at least half of them were poisonous and not quite ready to kill himself to get out of the deal. Hell, Jack wasn't certain killing himself would even work because then he'd just be Jack Frost again and Jack Frost was bound to the Boogieman. Instead, he sat there and shivered because it was cold and dark and he was wet and human. And if a few more drops of water landed on his already sodden clothes then, well, no one but him and the silent shadows on the wall had to know.

* * *

Jane wasn't sure how she made it to the pond that night. Had she managed to sneak out, despite being watched? Had she been pulled here through a dream turned nightmare turned reality? Was she even really there or was it still a dream, still a nightmare? Jane didn't know and never would, beyond the knowledge that she needed to be here and that, by hook or by crook, she would be. So Jane stood by the pond in the dark, watching the Moon that had apparently made her brother into the Spirit of Winter and wished and hoped that maybe it could help. It was a bit startling, but in a good way, when she got a response. A sense of peace enveloped her, a single word, _Believe_, echoed in her head, and Jane was filled with the certainty that everything would turn out all right. She believed with utmost surety that everything would work out. Much later she would learn that belief was a very strong spell indeed and that belief, in the end, may have been all it took.

Dark clouds blotted out the Moon and Jane felt her belief waver the slightest bit before steadying. The dark man, Pitch Black, the monster under the bed, or whatever he wanted to be called wouldn't hurt her. They had a deal, one Jane intended to finish. She had been watching for Pitch Black to arrive and thus saw him when he did so and also saw him when he paused at the sight of her. That was when Jane realized that, despite the darkness that swamped the area, she glowed like the snow around them, as if moonbeams and starlight were still playing against her skin and skirt, her hair and her shirt. What was more, for the first time in her life, Jane felt no fear of the Boogieman. The lack of fear made him falter for a moment before he drew himself back together. Suddenly the shadows swirled and Jack was _there_, his hair and eyes back to their familiar brown, the rime of frost melted from his clothes. He staggered, as if startled to find himself suddenly upright, before he ran toward her, arms stretching out as if desperate to reach her.

"Jane!"

"Jack!" Jane called back, tears threatening to blur her vision and she nearly dropped the staff as she moved in his direction, only to stop short in horror when the shadows rose up around her brother. They wrapped around his arms and legs and waist, lifting him up and holding him fast in spite of his struggles, and one that looked disturbingly like a hand settled over Jack's mouth, muffling his cries.

"You see, Jane," Pitch said, stepping forward and much recovered as a result of her sudden alarm, "I've kept my end of our little bargain. Your big brother, alive and well and exactly the way he was when he died and so he shall remain until the day you die. Now, for you to keep your end of the deal. The staff, child." The Boogeyman stretched out a greedy, clawed hand in Jane's direction even as she clutched the staff tighter. She knew what she needed to to, had already decided to do it, but she needed confirmation about something.

"But if I give it to you, then you own Jack," Jane said, even as she winced at her slip of tongue. She'd meant to say Jack would owe him, but before she could correct herself, Pitch answered.

"Silly girl, I've owned him from the moment he let go of the staff while you were holding it. He gave it to you and in doing so tacitly agreed to our deal."

"What?" Jane managed, surprised. A pained expression crossed her brother's face.

"You see, dear child, once you give me the staff, he's yours – until you die. Then both he and the staff are mine. But why should you care about that? You'll be dead and beyond caring once that happens."

"What happens if I keep the staff?" Jane challenged much more boldly than she felt, not liking the idea of winter in general or her brother in particular being owned by anybody, much less the dark spirit before her.

"Then Jack here," Pitch said, grabbing Jack's chin so forcefully that he let out a muffled sound of protest at the ill treatment, "stays with me. And you'll keep that twisted, dirty stick with you until the day you die, at which point I'll come and fetch it and it will belong to me anyway. The only difference between your two choices is whether your big brother will stay by your side for the rest of your life, or if he stays with me."

Jane was scared and horrified. Before this had all started, when she felt anything like these sorts of emotions, Jack would be right there, giving her a smile and cheering her right up. Right now, Jack was trying to jerk his face out of Pitch's grip and his body away from the shadowy hands roaming over him, pinching and poking and prodding even as they helped hold him still. His eyes met hers and Jane saw him trying to put up a brave front for her. She also saw it break when the shadow hands grew disturbingly bolder. She saw exactly how frightened he was just before he tried twisting away from them, making a noise that sounded far too much like a whimper to her ears.

"Alright, you can have the staff! But you have to give me Jack." Jane held out the staff with her right hand but also held out her left expectantly. The Boogeyman wasn't getting the staff until Jack was hers.

"Smart child," Pitch Black cooed as he extended his other hand, this one holding a black thread. He placed the thread against Jane's palm and she gasped as it burrowed into her body and soul. But as it attached to her, it changed, turning into a glowing silver not unlike moonlight. And as she watched, Jane saw a web of black and silver threads surrounding and running through Jack. The shadows reacted badly to the silver, rearing away from it until they could no longer keep a hold upon Jack, dropping him to the ground. Jack scrambled to right himself and get to Jane in the same awkward motion even as Pitch wrapped a hand around the staff and tugged it out of Jane's limp grasp.

"A pleasure doing business with you," Pitch stated, bowing before he and the living shadows disappeared.

The wind pushed the dark clouds blocking the Moon away just as Jack reached her and pulled her into his arms, both of them crying and neither sure if the tears were in sadness or joy. Pitch Black owned Jack, but not entirely, not yet. In the meanwhile, Jack was here and alive and they had the rest of Jane's life to figure something out.

* * *

**Notes:** I don't think I did a terribly good job with Jane's catatonic state, although I did try to get the major symptoms in. I don't recommend using smelling salts on someone suffering catatonia. The only reason they're in here is because they existed back then and the ladies were getting desperate for some kind of reaction from Jane. Nowadays we have actual drugs to treat catatonia, so your best bet is calling for emergency services.

There's actually some significance about Pitch and Jane's hands in the exchange. Not only does it make sense to hand someone something with your dominant hand (especially if you were just making what you assumed was a gesture with your left), but witchcraft is associated with the left hand. The hand Pitch took and where Jane is now magically bonded to Jack is also the hand French superstition says is the one witches used to greet the Devil. Jack and Jane are not French - Overland is very English sounding. However, the area below Lake Erie, which is where Burgess is apparently located, was very much still "owned" (in that they were to first Europeans to claim the area, never mind the natives that were already there) by the French in during that time period and remained so for quite some time, so it's quite likely Jack and Jane would have met or even known someone who was French.

To everyone who's left a review, thank you. I appreciate your kind words, support, and advice.


	6. Chapter 6: The Witch

**Notes:** Well, this chapter was a lot easier, both emotionally and in ease of writing. The only reason it took so long was because I got very badly distracted by the new SimCity. *sheepish look* I found it awfully addicting when I could play it and, when I couldn't, I ended up reading all the news about the disastrous launch.

I actually have the next part started because it was going to be in this chapter when I realized that 1) it would be way longer than what I've been posting lately and 2) you guys have been waiting for awhile already. So here's hoping I don't end up too distracted by the game and get the next chapter out sooner than I have been.

**Warning** for children in physical danger and (minor) injuries in this chapter.

* * *

**_Chapter 6: The Witch_**

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault and now... and now..." Jane broke off, her breath hitching in a sob. She rather wished her tears hadn't come back because it made her sadness messy, causing her eyes to water and her nose to run.

"Hey, none of that," Jack said, pushing a fingertip against the end of her nose and making her start. Her surprise slowed her tears and she looked up at him.

"He used you. That makes it his fault, not yours."

"But if I hadn't made the deal - "

"Wouldn't have made any difference if I hadn't let go of the staff," Jack pointed out. "And none of it would have happened if Pitch Black hadn't been playing us both. This is all would've, could've, should've, and those don't matter. We have enough to deal with while focusing on what does."

Jane startled Jack by leaping at him and wrapping her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. Jack held her and rubbed her back and ignored how his cloak and shirt were growing damp once more. After several long minutes, she lifted her face away from his shoulder long enough to whisper in confession, "Am I horrible for being glad you're here and alive?"

"No. Never."

"What are we going to do?" Jane asked as she clung to her brother. Jack continued rubbing calming circles on her back even as he frowned in thought.

"I'm not sure. Our best bet would be figuring out what other spirits there are and if they know something or know someone who does."

"You really didn't meet any while you were a spirit?"

"No. And I don't have the faintest clue how to look for one, especially now that I really need to find one. I'm fairly certain the Sandman exists, because I've seen golden sand giving children sweet dreams, but I'm also fairly certain he can do that from anywhere because when I tried following the sand back to where it came from, I ended up lost in an entirely different part of the countryside. Of course, the fact I didn't want to wander too far from my pond while I was figuring things out probably didn't help. Still, we could keep an eye out for him while we look for others."

"How will we know if they're there? You said I was the first person to see you."

Jack winced at his sister's words before carefully stating, "Well, we won't know if we don't try. And based on the way you were glowing earlier, I think the Moon's on our side, which has to be worth something. Now come on. It's cold and it's late and we're more likely to find the information we need back in the village than we would sitting out here in the woods."

"Right," Jane agreed with a nod as she loosened her grip enough for Jack to stand. She quickly took his hand as soon as he was up, however, and they walked together to the village.

There was a crowd. It had fallen dark early enough that, despite Jane giving them the slip, her absence had been quickly noted. The entire thing with Jack and Pitch hadn't taken long at all, really, likely because Pitch hadn't stayed around to try and menace them once he got what he wanted. As a result, there were still people checking houses for Jane even as the men got ready to search the woods. Jack and Jane paused at the edge of the village, both nervous for reasons shared and separate. Jack wondered if they would be able to actually see him, because he could not only remember being walked through in general but also by a few of the people he saw in particular. Jane was worried she was in trouble, even, maybe especially, because she'd brought Jack back with her. And they both knew they'd have to explain what had happened and why and neither was looking forward to that.

Tobias Jones, who was only a year and a half older than Jane, was the first to see the siblings and he stared wide-eyed at them, mouth opening as he made sounds that weren't quite words as his tongue failed him in his shock. Only his tugging at his mother's skirts proved he wasn't completely out of it. Goody Jones turned to scold her son but, seeing his expression, looked where he was looking and covered her mouth as she gasped in shock.

"Anne, love, what's the matter? I... my God," Goodman Jones said, noticing his wife's alarm followed quickly by the reason why. From there it spread out like a ripple in a pond, people stopping and turning to look only to stare in an increasingly uncomfortable silence before it was finally broken.

"Jack? My God, Jackson!" a woman said as the crowd parted to let her pass, two men following quickly in her footsteps.

"Mum," Jack replied, face brightening with a smile. He managed only two steps before she'd swept him up in a hug and started crying all over him.

"Jackson. Lad. Is that really you?" the broader of the two men who'd followed asked, eyes wide and hopeful. Jack looked up at his father, smiling so widely his face hurt.

"Yeah, it's me. Jane found me."

"My word," the other man, Pastor Smith, said as he observed the reunion first-hand, "Jackson Overland, as I stand and breathe. Shame on you, boy! What was so important that you had to let your family think you'd died?" Jack's smile dimmed.

"I did die," he said, partially because he'd been raised to always tell his pastor the truth but mostly because he didn't like being blamed for his own death. When Pastor Smith's eyebrows just rose towards his hat, Jack quickly added, "I mean, I'm alive now, of course, but that's because of the deal."

"Deal? What deal?" Jack's father asked.

"The deal with the dark man," Jane admitted from where she was standing close by.

"He made a deal with the Devil!" Goody Merrick, who was quite the busybody, exclaimed. Goody Jones, who spent a lot of time at church and not just because she had a thing for Pastor Smith, nodded vigorously.

"He's an abomination, is what he is!" Goodman Merrick claimed as he stood by his wife and her proclamation.

"Calm down, now!" Pastor Smith insisted. "We don't know the whole story yet."

"We know enough!" Goody Merrick said, "The proof's right before us! It's been nigh a year and if that creature was really Jackson Overland alive and well, he would have aged! What's more, there's no wear and tear on his clothes! _And_ he admitted he'd died and made a deal with the Devil!"

The crowd, quickly leaving rationality behind, murmured in agreement.

"But Jack didn't make the deal. I did!" Jane spoke up, determined to defend the brother she'd already risked so much to get back. She turned a pleading expression on Pastor Smith, obviously just wanting him to understand. "He wasn't buried in the churchyard, so he wasn't in Heaven." The shocked and guilty look that crossed Pastor Smith's face did not help things.

"Witch! You heard her! She just admitted to being a witch!"

Jack found himself looking in alarm at the forming mob. His mother had stepped back, hands over her mouth as she quietly cried. His father kept clenching and unclenching his fists, as if he desired to punch those bad-mouthing his family but not quite daring to. Jack scanned the crowd hopelessly, knowing that telling the truth wouldn't do them any good right now. Then he swore he saw a shadow with glowing eyes and sharp teeth amidst the mob. Jack's heart skipped a beat as he remembered his conversation with Pitch prior to his transformation. Jack belonged to Jane only as long as she lived. Pitch couldn't have her blood on his hands, he'd confessed as much, but he didn't need to when he could play on a rabble's fear and convince them to do it for him.

"Ow!" Jane yelped in pained surprise as the first rock hit her shoulder. Tobias Jones looked somewhere between shocked at his action and proud he'd actually done it. Then the mob broke free. Jack pulled Jane tight against him, crouching protectively around her even as he turned his back to the mob. A few stones bruised his back, although his cloak, shirt, and vest blocked the worst damage, before they suddenly stopped. Jack looked up and found his parents had moved between him and Jane and the crowd.

"ENOUGH! ALL OF YOU!" Pastor Smith roared in his preaching voice. The crowd paused long enough to see the pastor and the children's parents standing between them and their prey, long enough to Pastor Smith to continue. "Does not the Good Book say that only he who is free from sin should cast the first stone?"

"It also says 'Thou shalt not allow a witch to live'!" Goody Merrick countered angrily.

"Witch or not, do you really think your Eternal Soul will avoid Hellfire and Damnation once you wash yourselves in the Blood of Children?" Pastor Smith said in such a way that you could hear the capitals. That made the villagers hesitate. No one wanted to end up in Hell, but fear was still running rampant amongst them and wasn't getting rid of a witch a good thing?

"The witch can't stay here!" Goody Jones insisted, "Nor that... that _thing_ wearing Jackson Overland's face!"

"Then banishment. Exile. If Hiram would be so good as to fetch my hourglass. Thank you. They will be given one hour to gather anything they need and then they will leave and never come back," Pastor Smith stated. He was trying to protect them, Jack realized. Better he and Jane be driven out and potentially survive than to remain in the village where certain death awaited. Jack watched as Pastor Smith turned to his and Jane's parents and said, "Goodman and Goodwife Overland, you do not stand accused. It is within your rights to give or deny them what you will."

A pained expression crossed his father's face before it went blank and stern and he nodded. The crowd followed them to the Overland's household, but thankfully stayed outside and watched the hourglass Hiram Pierce had fetched. Once they were inside and away from prying eyes, Jack found himself in his father's arms, arms wrapped strong and firm around him and his father's face pressed to the top of his head, as if trying to memorize his scent.

"However this happened, whoever is responsible, whether God or Devil or something else entirely, just being able to see you again, to hear you and hold you, is a miracle to me," he said quietly against Jack's hair.

"Dad," Jack began before he just closed his eyes and hugged his father as hard as he could. They stood like that for a bit while Jane and their mother bustled about, making the most of the time given. Eventually, to Jack's regret, his father pulled back.

"If you head south-east, there's a trading town. South of there is another village. Head there. Once we get things squared here, your mum and I will follow."

Jack frowned but nodded, not happy about his family being uprooted but deeply thankful his parents weren't abandoning him and Jane to their fate. Jack's father clasped Jack's shoulder and gave him a small smile.

"Take care and look after your sister."

"Yes, sir."

Then Jack's father stepped back and let his mother take his place. She fussed over him and his clothes and lack of shoes with a sigh.

"We gave your clothes away," she confessed. "We didn't think you'd need them any more and there were others who did and, oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I don't think anyone expected this to happen."

She gave him a fond smile and asked, "When did you grow up on me?" Then she started with an exclamation of, "Oh, cheese!" and she was off in a rustle of skirts. It took the full hour to get two packs of food, clothing, and some coin together but Jane and Jack talked as they worked, giving an explanation of what had happened and why. Then the time was up and Jack found himself on the road out of town, a protective hand on Jane's shoulder as he glared at the villagers who'd come to make sure they were gone. Then he shifted his bag to sit more comfortably with his other hand and he walked. He'd spend an awful lot of that first century walking.

* * *

**Notes:** All of the famous witchcraft trials in North America had finished before Jane would have been born, if barely, with the Salem Witchcraft Trials taking place in 1698, but witchcraft trials would continue in the United States until 1878 according to records. Of the recorded witchcraft trials, none that followed Salem were nearly as violent. Those accused were often acquitted (and sometimes sued back for slander) or, if not, forced to pay some sort of fine. That is, if the accused were European. Otherwise witchcraft trials were used as an excuse for enslavement.

On a funnier note, in 1730, one Benjamin Franklin would report on a witchcraft trial in the _Pennsylvania Gazette_ that later proved to be a hoax he had concocted wholesale.

Goody (which is short for Goodwife) and Goodman were considered polite forms of address for married people of lower social standing, with Mister and Mistress saved for the higher classes. It's earliest known usage dates back to the 1300s and was used by the English, Scottish, and American Colonists. However it would fall out of use starting in the 1700s with it eventually being considered archaic outside of Scotland by the mid-18th century.


	7. Chapter 7: To Never Grow Up

I... don't know that there's anything that needs to be warned about. Well maybe continuing the children in danger warning, but that's true of any action story where the protagonists are children. Depending on whether or not you think Jack is capable of aging mentally, it might remain true for the rest of this entire story.

And sorry about taking so long. I've known how I wanted this chapter to go all week but I just wasn't able to get the words to flow until just recently.

* * *

**_Chapter 7: To Never Grow Up_**

Jack and Jane managed to find temporary lodging in the new village. They'd only been there for a few days and Mum and Dad had yet to show when the story of why they'd left came to haunt them and fear started stirring up trouble once again. Jack gathered up Jane and their few belongings and they left, heading for the next village. Unfortunately, the next village was the same and they quickly moved on. That's when they met the older couple who had no children of their own and lived several miles away from the nearest people. They gladly took Jack and Jane in out of the winter (which had been oddly mild, but then Jack had his suspicions for exactly why that was). Once they had a safe place to stay, once winter was satisfied they weren't going anywhere, it let loose and the farmstead was quickly buried in snow.

* * *

Thomas Jones was a simple man who knew what he liked and what he didn't. He liked peace and disliked noise. He loved his wife Annis, but had always been secretly relieved they'd never had children. And he loved her more than he liked peace and disliked noise, so when they stumbled across two children on their last walk of the season, he agreed with her idea of letting them stay until their parents came. With the way the snow had started falling not two days later, that wouldn't be until spring at the earliest.

The girl, Jane, fretted over her parents' absence. Annis distracted her beautifully by teaching the girl to bake. Apparently the Overlands had lived with enough people that they could afford to specialize. The girl knew how to card wool and a beginner's knowledge of how to spin and weave, knit and sew, and even knew something about dyes. Baking, however, had been done by their miller and his family, so while both boy and girl knew the basics of cooking, neither had baked so much as a loaf of bread before. Jane, it turned out, was a fine baker and promised to become better as she aged. Even her first tries at bread were delicious and soon grew to look as lovely as they tasted, and she quickly proved to have a deft hand at pastry. They ate very well that winter.

Jackson also worried about his parents, but hid it much better. Keeping him too busy to properly think, much less worry, seemed to work best, so the moment the boy started to fidget, Thomas knew to heap another chore upon the boy. At first, that meant Thomas had more work as well. The boy knew how to care for sheep, including how to shear them, and some of that translated into taking care of cows in general but not in specific. Teaching the boy how to properly milk a cow, including preventing her from kicking over or stepping in the bucket, was a challenge and they ended up wasting more milk than they gathered that first week. He did eventually learn. Jackson did better with the chickens, having helped a neighbor enough to know how to snatch eggs while suffering minimal attacks from the hens who hated having their eggs stolen. Jackson swore the rooster was evil, though, and Thomas had to concede that point. He should've shoved that mean old cock into a pot ages ago and now the creature was too old and tough to be worth eating. More interesting was that the boy knew more about sewing, knitting, and even weaving than his sister did, something he claimed his mother had taught him during the winters he was too young to help herd sheep.

The children were useful Thomas admitted, if only to himself, and watching his Annis smile as she passed along yet another of her recipes made something feel content inside. It would be perfect if not for Jackson. Thomas wasn't even sure why that was. The boy was kind, good with his sister, and eager to please. He never once complained about all the chores Thomas gave him, even if he tended to drop from exhaustion at the end of the day. It wasn't until the end of winter that Thomas got his first hint why.

"Look how you've grown," Annis exclaimed as she examined the dress she'd had Jane try on. It was short in the sleeves now, the seams looked somewhat strained in certain areas, and the hem of her skirt hung a bit too high for propriety. The girl was nine, nearly ten, and obviously heading for a growth spurt. The question was if they could make her winter dresses last long enough for Annis and Jackson to make her a few spring dresses to grow into.

"Hmm... I think we might be able to loosen a few seams and redo the hem on this one. Oh, while I have this out, Jackson, come here dear. Let me measure you, see what changes we need to make on your clothes."

When they'd came, Jackson hadn't had any clothes but those on his back and instead used the space in his pack for food and sundries and a few extra dresses for his sister. Annis had promptly measured him and whipped out a few sets of new clothes out of some of Thomas's old ones. A season later, the clothes still fit, as did his old pair.

"Hmm... you haven't grown. Well, you must be due for a growth spurt soon. Don't worry, you'll soon be towering over all of us!"

_You haven't grown._ The words hadn't sat well with Thomas. He recalled growing like a weed when he was that age and it was beyond odd that Jackson should go for an entire season without growing an inch. It was then that all the little things came to mind. It was the way Jackson would pause outside, face lifted up and smile upon his face, as snow fell gently upon him. It was the way he'd extend his fingers as if carding them through the wind, a wistful look upon his face. It was the way he'd abandon the too-big boots he borrowed from Thomas as soon as he was inside and how he'd sometimes forget to wear them outside until Thomas reprimanded him. It was the way Jackson didn't seem to feel the cold at all, but reveled in it. It was odd and different and Thomas didn't understand it. And like many people, Thomas feared what he didn't understand.

* * *

The trip into the nearest town at market had been made out of necessity rather than desire. The children were understandably antsy for news about their parents, they were running low on the staples Thomas and Annis had stockpiled for the winter, and the continuous snowfall had finally stopped and the weather warmed enough to make the road somewhat passable with a wagon. So Thomas Jones took his only horse and wagon to make the trip. The children had been understandably upset at being left behind with Annis, but someone had to remain behind because it took near on a full day to get to town. Since the market wasn't open all day, the second day was spent in shopping and the third was spent getting back home. Three days was far too long to leave the animals alone. So Thomas had gone alone after promising to spread the word of the Overland children's location.

After selling the goods he had – Jane's baking efforts in particular had brought in a few pretty pennies – and buying the staples they needed, Thomas had headed back to the inn he had a room in and settled into the common room, hoping for the chance to relax. He'd passed on the information he and Annis had two children staying with them over the winter but hadn't specified who – no point in encouraging charlatans to show up after all – and was halfway hoping to hear some gossip about where the parents had gotten off to. A part of him suspected the two had been abandoned and just didn't want to admit it. Why else would they have been wandering around at the beginning of winter? Ah, well, they'd proven useful enough to keep on hand. Thomas wasn't about to scoff at labor that was free aside from food and a bed.

"Did you hear about the witch?" someone over by the bar asked. Thomas shifted slightly where he was sitting off to the side in the shadows. He hated witches, like any proper God-fearing man should. The listener apparently hadn't heard about the witch either, because the speaker continued.

"It was up north-west of here. A whole family was kicked out right before winter set in proper."

"Just kicked out?"

"Well, it turned out the witch was the daughter. A wee little thing, too. The parents didn't follow right away. Probably felt guilty about letting a child wander alone at the beginning of winter."

"A little girl was accused of being a witch?"

"Not just accused! They had proof! Her older brother died the winter before, drowned in a pond when the ice cracked. She made a deal with the Devil to bring him back! Except the Devil can't bring the dead back to life, only the Good Lord can do that, so all she got was some sort of monster wandering around in the dead boy's body. She took the demon with her when she left. The parents are actually in town, doing odd jobs."

"Really? What's their names?"

"Don't remember the witch's name proper, but the parents are Joshua and Mary Overland, who're staying over at Johnson's inn."

Thomas felt his blood freeze at the last name. A witch and an abomination posing as her older brother wandering the countryside? And at his homestead, he and Annis had found two lost children, a little girl and an odd boy who didn't feel the cold and didn't seem to age nor grow. Dear Lord, he'd left his Annis alone with them! Suddenly grateful he'd had the sense to pack earlier so he could make an early start in the morning, Thomas bolted. He no longer planned on staying the night. And the others in the common room were so busy staring in shock at Thomas's sudden departure to notice a shadow with sharp teeth and glowing eyes, assuming they could see it at all.

* * *

Jack suspected he wasn't as human as he looked. His near constant growth spurts had come to an abrupt stop the moment he'd fallen through the ice and hadn't started up again when his heart had started beating once more. He still didn't mind the cold and actually found being near the fire for too long made him lethargic. Most convincing was the fact that when he curled up with Jane at bedtime, even his exhausted body couldn't prevent his mind from noticing his heart matching Jane's beat for beat. It wasn't like it changed to match either. Every time Jack grabbed her up into a hug, he was aware of the fact their pulses perfectly matched. His heart beat to the tune of her heart and he told her as much the second night Thomas was away and Jack, as a result, wasn't falling into bed bone tired.

"Huh. It does," Jane acknowledged, ear pressed against his chest and a hand pressed to her own breast. Then she pulled back and asked, "What does it mean?"

"I don't know, but I don't think I've stopped being Jack Frost. Not really. I can feel the Winter."

"What does it feel like?" Jane asked with a confused frown.

"I... don't know. I can't really describe it. I know it's going where it needs to go and I know I can give it a mental push when necessary – I know it didn't start snowing until we and Mum and Dad all had a safe place to stay because I didn't want it to – but when I try I can't frost things or order it around or anything. Nothing really big nor any fine details. And the winds can't find me."

"The winds?"

"Yeah, they don't look or act human but, they definitely have personalities and stuff. North Wind in particular liked me, but we all got along. They'd take me flying and whisper to me. I can still hear them whispering. They sound frantic. They're looking for me but they don't recognize me and can't understand me when I try talking back to them. It's like there's some sort of block or I'm invisible to them."

"Oh. How sad."

"Janey," Jack said after a moment's silence where they sat in the dark, using a private pet name he hadn't used for quite some time.

"Yes?"

"I'm not aging, Janey. In fact, I don't think I'm really human at all. I'd have started growing again if I were."

"Of course you are! Why wouldn't you?"

"Did you mention that in the deal? Because I seem to remember Pitch saying all he was doing was making me the way I was when I died. As in, I'd be the way I was the day I died until you... you know."

"But why?"

Jack shrugged as he said, "Maybe it was easier? Give me the semblance of life and tie it to you? It would explain why our heartbeats match. And why I can still feel Winter. I'm still Jack Frost, I'm just... bottled up in a human form."

"But you're Jackson Overland too," Jane insisted.

"I was. I guess I still am, in a way. But I'm more, too. I can feel Spring coming and it's making me feel itchy. Every time I felt this way that year I was just Jack Frost, it meant it was time to move. Staying wasn't an option. I think that's still true. We'll need to move."

"Move? Again?"

"I know you don't want to, Jane, but we should start getting our things together. Who knows? Maybe Thomas found Mum and Dad. And even if he didn't, we should see if we can't find them."

Jane bit her lip but nodded. Jack kissed her forehead, making her relax and smile.

"Get some sleep."

"You too, imp," she replied, using the nickname Annis had started calling Jack. Jack chuckled quietly as he wrapped himself around his sister and let himself ease off into slumber.

"Time to wake up, imp! The cows won't milk themselves!" Annis gaily announced as she pulled the hand-sewn curtains away from the windows and let the sunlight in. Jack groaned and tried to cover his face to protect himself from the light, only to get poked in the side by Jane.

"Evil," Jack muttered as he pulled himself upright. Jane stuck her tongue out at him before scrambling out of reach when he lunged for her. He followed and used his longer stride to overtake her and snatch her up, tickling her until she was helpless with laughter.

"Got you!"

"Let go! Let go! No fair!" Jane shrieked between giggles. Jack had missed this. Thomas hated noise. Annis, on the other hand, was beaming at them in a slightly wistful way. She took a piece of bread and gave it to Jack as soon as he set Jane down.

"Here. This will tide you over long enough to dress and get the chores done while Jane and I get breakfast ready. The cows are already in the shed and I'll send Jane out for the eggs so you don't have to worry about those as well."

"Thank you!" Jack called before stuffing the bread into his mouth even as he moved to dress more warmly than he felt he actually needed to be. As it was, he forgot the stupid clunky boots yet again as he hurried to the barn. The cows did not like waiting and Thomas had gone on and on about the problems that could arise if they weren't milked on time. Once Jack got into the rhythm, it was actually rather mindless work beyond making sure the cow he was milking behaved. Thus when he was on the last cow, he noticed and paused when he heard Jane scream faintly in the distance. It sounded like it came from the chicken coop, which was closer to the house than the barn. The old, mean cockerel had probably tried something, Jack deduced as he quickly finished. Hopefully Annis was already taking care of things, but it wouldn't hurt to check and make sure. Jack set his full bucket down where the cows wouldn't be able to spill it and moved to the door.

"Jane!" he called as he stepped outside. Her answering cry indeed came from the chicken coop and when he ran over, he found her locked inside, pounding on the door which was latched shut. That was something that couldn't happen on accident, Jack noticed with a frown. When one opened the swing latch, one swung a rectangular piece of wood out of the wooden grip that held it. The swinging part of the latch would then loosely hang. Not only did one have to swing the latch up and around to close the door, it was a pain getting the wooden grip in and out, as could be evidenced by the way the wood had been worn into a circle and the way the latch was deeply notched right by the latch grip.

"Just a second, I'll have you out," he informed her even as he started prying the latch open. He pushed his weight against the door, trying to give himself some leeway with the tight latch, and shoved up on the latch grip. He felt more than saw the person behind him. Thinking it was Annis come to help, Jack turned.

_He's back early_, Jack thought right before pain burst like a bubble, shoving aside all thought as he doubled over, clutching at the point on his torso where the pain was the worst.

"Dead things belong in the ground," Jack heard Thomas say before the shovel the man was holding came down sharply on the back of Jack's head and knocked any sense he had right out of him. The last thing he was aware of was Jane screaming his name.

* * *

Many thanks and much appreciation to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, or followed the story.

**Fun notes:** Thomas Jones is the name of second man accused of witchcraft in America, the first being Hugh Parsons, who may or may not have actually been accused, meaning Thomas might actually be the first. Annis, of course, is named after the infamous Black Annis.

In somewhat related news, I am now co-president of the Evil Author's Club.


	8. Chapter 8: Mercy

Many thanks for all your reviews, favorites, follows, and kudos. For those going on about how I left off at an evil spot, you'll quickly find I could have left off in a much worse spot. Which reminds me: **taphophobia warning** for this chapter in addition to the now standard peril warning.

* * *

_**Chapter 8: Mercy**_

Waking up was a nightmare. Jack came to with a jerk and quickly found his movement was very limited. He'd been tied in hemp twine at his knees and then again at his bare ankles, with his hands twisted and bound firmly behind his back. A length of fabric had been knotted over and over until it formed a ball that had been forced behind his teeth before the loose ends had been tied tightly around the back of his head to prevent him from spitting it out. The sodden wad of fabric in his mouth was solid enough that it not only weighted down his tongue, but it forced his jaw painfully open and made attempts at chewing through the fabric futile. In the distance, he could hear upset chickens and what sounded faintly like his name. Closer, much closer, was the sound of a spade moving the earth. Even worse, the source of the last sound was visible. Jack shivered where he had been left to lie on the ground. Thomas was digging a grave and had managed to get it quite deep while Jack had been unconscious.

Jack started struggling, determined to get himself free, grab Jane, and _run_. He paused but briefly when the sound of digging stopped and Thomas rose from the grave like some hollow-eyed ghoul, shovel in hand. The shovel went point down into the ground right next to Jack's head, making him rear back as much as he could. Then Thomas kicked him right in the gut, knocking the air out of Jack's lungs. Jack curled in on himself as he tried to fill his lungs and panicked a little when the gag got in the way. Then Thomas was picking Jack up by his collar and the seat of his pants and, with farm-hardened muscles, swung Jack over the pit and let go. Falling six feet and not being able to do anything to stop the fall is very unkind to a body. Jack lost what little breath he'd managed to recover in a cry of shock and pain as he landed on his hip and shoulder badly. Stunned and his side throbbing, Jack didn't react right away and quickly regretted it when Thomas started shoving the dirt back in.

_He's going to bury me alive!_ Jack realized in alarm right as the first of the dirt fell on top of him, horrifyingly heavy. The thought of not being able to breath was bad enough. The knowledge he'd be crushed by the weight of the earth on top of him was worse. He may not have survived his last brush with death, but Jack knew he could deal with drowning and hypothermia. Being buried? There was a part of him wailing that Jack Frost was not supposed to be in the ground. Jack managed to struggle into a sitting position and pressed his damaged side against a wall even as Thomas cursed at him and shoved the dirt in faster. When Jack managed to shove the worst of the buildup away with his feet, the dirt stopped except for a few tiny, loose streams.

"Going to have to nail you down, aren't I? Or you'll just unbury yourself."

Jack's breath caught in his throat and fear swamped his senses for a long moment before rationality rose once more. He turned a pleading face up towards Thomas, hoping against hope that maybe he could convince the man to stop, to not do this. Thomas didn't even look at him, just turned away with a muttered, "Won't take long" and Jack slumped back against the wall of his earthen prison as hope fled. He took only a few short moments to pity himself before trying to wrangle free of the ropes once more. He wasn't going to give up without a fight. Jack _had_ to survive because he didn't want to think about what would happen to Jane if he didn't.

Thomas returned far too quickly, holding a mallet and a single large, wooden stake. When Thomas jumped down into the would-be grave, Jack kicked out as much as his binding allowed in a vehement and increasingly frantic attempt at keeping the other away. Thomas responded by lashing out and the next thing Jack knew, his bound body was stretched out on the soft, rich loam and his head was an agonized muddle. Thomas was holding the stake above Jack's heart and Jack's eyes widened before he bucked up, trying to dislodge Thomas. Thomas cursed as he was pushed back, but Jack was still firmly bound and it was a simple matter for Thomas to flip the boy onto his front and dig a knee into the small of his back to keep him still. The feel of the point of the spike digging into his back stilled Jack even as he huffed and whined against his gag and waited for the inevitable.

* * *

When Annis had first noticed the ruckus, she'd first assumed Jack had pulled some sort of prank on Jane and proceeded to ignore it. Annis could recognize a streak of mischief a mile wide when she saw it, even if her Thomas had kept the impish boy too busy to have idle hands. So she hadn't been concerned at first. When the cries continued on for far longer than they should have, Annis started to worry. She was alone with two children and anything could be attacking; wild animals, bandits, disgruntled natives, anything. So she did what any frontier woman left alone would do – she grabbed her husband's hunting rifle and loaded it. Once the rifle was ready, she headed outside. Following the noise, Annis found Jane in the chicken coop, which was firmly latched closed. The poor girl was pounding against the door and crying her brother's name.

"Hush, dear. I'll have you out in a bit. Did your brother lock you in here?" Annis said as she worked the stubborn latch. This would be the type of prank a child would play, except if he had, surely Jack would have let her out by now? She'd been in there far too long for it to be a funny joke any longer and Jack had never struck her as intentionally cruel.

"No, he didn't! You've got to stop him! He's going to hurt Jack!" Jane hollered through the door.

Annis felt her blood run cold. He? She set down the rifle and gave the latch one last, mighty shove, finally opening the door, and then quickly snatched up the gun. There was a strange man on her homestead threatening her and hers, and he'd quickly find out what happened to men that did such things.

Once she was freed, Jane took Annis by the hand and led her away from the coop, calling out for Jack, the poultry noisily making their escape at the same time. They searched the barn first, but found only hay, straw, milk buckets waiting to be emptied, a startled stray cat, and some confused cows wondering why they hadn't been let out to pasture. Annis led the way to the shed Thomas kept his tools in, but again they found nothing. With nothing immediately visible and no knowledge of tracking, Annis started a sweep of the surrounding forest, snagging Jane before she could wander off and ordering her to stay close. One of her children were missing. She wasn't going to lose sight of the other.

Jane continued to call for her brother, but her voice slowed and eventually stopped as she gnawed her bottom lip in worry. Annis didn't reprimand her for the nervous action and instead strained her ears for the interloper. What she heard instead was someone in Thomas's shed.

Annis turned and ran back to the homestead, Jane at her heels, and, as they burst out into the clearing the farm stood in, Annis briefly saw a man disappear into the woods opposite them. Without delay, she sprinted in the direction she'd seen him disappear into the trees. Jane was faster and she overtook and then passed Annis. When Annis finally reached the area where a grave stood open, she noticed the man fighting with something beneath him even as he raised a wooden mallet in the air.

Jane shrieked and threw herself at him, biting the arm holding the potential weapon. He screamed and moved to hurt Jane while shouting, "You little witch!"

"Stop right there or I'll shoot you!" Annis demanded. She almost didn't recognize her husband. Not only were his actions foreign, but there was something hard and dark in his eyes that she'd never seen before. He gave her a surprised and then scared look when he saw the gun.

"Annis, love, what are you doing? Put down the gun, love."

"What am _I_ doing? What in Heaven's name are _you_ doing?!"

Thomas's eye turned even darker as he growled, "She's a witch! And he's the revenant she brought back with the Devil's help!"

"No, he's not!" Jane cried out. She'd ended up in the hole and even now she was trying to untie her brother, who looked filthy and frightened and bright-eyed from unshed tears.

"Lying little witch!" Thomas thundered, momentarily forgetting the gun until the click of it being cocked reached his ears. He paused, angry but not willing to force his wife to shoot him.

"I think you need to take a good look at what you're doing, Thomas Jones!" Annis called out threateningly.

"Annis, love, I know this doesn't look good, but they're evil!"

"Jack's not evil! I _am_ a witch and the dark man _did_ help me bring Jack back to life," Jane admitted before insisting, "But Jack's not evil! He's an angel!"

"What?" Annis managed. Even Thomas looked somewhat shocked.

"He died saving my life! And then the dark man convinced me Jack wasn't in Heaven because he wasn't buried properly and Jack wasn't in Heaven but that's because he was chosen! But Jack's new to being chosen and when he tried to protect me from the dark man, he got trapped and now the dark man's scaring people so that they'll hurt us because once I die, he'll own Jack!" Jane babbled, crying and Jack, despite still being bound, tried to curl around her and shield her with his body. That was more than enough proof for Annis and she waited, rifle at the ready, until her husband saw it as well, that odd, dark hardness leave his eyes. She waited until she knew he was seeing what she was seeing – two desperate children crying. Jane was clutching her brother, her eyes wide with fear. Jack's were pressed closed, awaiting a blow. And Thomas staggered back when he realized what he'd been about to do, dropping the wooden implements he'd still been holding.

"That'll do," Annis said. "That'll do."

* * *

The snow had all but melted, only the areas in constant shadow still dressed in lingering white. Mary Overland was working as a maid and serving woman in an inn owned by a Horace Johnson, as she had all winter. In return, she and her husband received room and board and Mary got to keep an ear on the local gossip in hopes of hearing about her children's whereabouts. Her husband, Joshua, was working an odd job down in the market, the same as he had been all winter and again hoping to hear anything about their children. There had been a brief rumor two weeks before of a farming couple taking in a couple of children, but not only did no one know the names of the children, but no one could direct them to the farm. No one ever went to the farm, but they managed to get a promise that when they saw the farmer in town again, they'd let him know the Overlands were wanting to know if the children were theirs.

They barely got that promise and it was grudgingly given. While neither Mary nor Joshua had said why they were separated from their children, the story had apparently arrived ahead of them. Mary saw the occasional pitying look, but most were harsh and disdainful and she had heard more than a few individuals muttering about how they hoped the children staying with the Jones family weren't Jackson and Jane because who knew what would happen to that nice couple? Mary huffed every time she heard that, but didn't let it get to her. These people were ignorant and Mary was convinced they wouldn't be saying such a thing if they'd ever met her son or daughter. They were her angel babies, perhaps quite literally in Jackson's case with the way things stood.

When the market closed, it sent a flood of people by the inn. Mary was wiping down the counter in between delivering orders of food and drink when her Joshua came in the door. She looked at him, hope rearing its head only curl back up into a tiny ball when he gave her a sad look and shook his head before heading for a seat at the end of the bar. Mary quickly brought him the meal her work earned them and gave him a brief pat on the shoulder. They'd find Jackson and Jane. As long as she had hope, she'd believe that, and her hope ran deep indeed. Then she went back to her job because it was one of the busiest times of day for an inn.

"Excuse me? Could you tell me where I could find a Mr. and Mrs. Joshua Overland?"

Mary looked up from where she was cleaning up some plates to look at where Horace Johnson was manning his bar at that sentence. The worst of the rush was over and the crowd was starting to thin. Joshua was still slumped at the bar where he could help keep an ear on the conversations and he too perked up at the sound of his name. The inquirer was a lovely older lady, her pinned-up blonde hair heavily streaked with silver. She'd obviously dressed up before coming in to town, but even so she looked dusty and weary from travel.

Horace nodded at Joshua. Horace was a good man, even if he did pity them, and Mary was grateful to him, especially when he looked at her and inclined his head in her husband's direction, letting her know she was free to leave her job and join the conversation. She gave him a thankful smile and moved to stand by Joshua.

"I'm Joshua Overland and this is my wife, Mary," her husband was informing the woman when Mary approached. Mary took her husband's outstretched hand and clasped it firmly even as she gave the woman a hopeful look.

"Hello. It's good to meet you. I hadn't expected to find you so quick. I'm Annis Jones. My husband, Thomas, and I own and run a farm outside of town and, well, I think you should come with me."

Mary exchanged a look with Joshua, but they moved to follow, still holding each others hand. Mrs. Jones led them outside to the stable yard, where people's carts and coaches and the animals to pull them could rest alongside some chickens and a cow owned by the inn for the eggs and milk they provided. There stood a cart of goods. The stable boy, Aaron, was taking care of the old nag that had pulled it, but that wasn't what grabbed Mary's attention. No that was taken by the two children waiting on the front seat of the cart.

Jane had grown a bit the last few months and was dressed in a new dress in a lovely spring color and which had obviously been designed to give her a bit of room to grow. Jack looked the same except for the brief flashes of similarly new clothes under the same cloak he'd worn the day he'd died... and the day he'd come back to them alive. They were talking quietly to each other until Mrs. Jones called out to them and when they turned, they froze, eyes growing round. Then Jack was leaping off of the cart in that devil-may-care way of his and Joshua was forced to let go of Mary's hand as he caught their son, staggering back with a loud "Oof!" and a large grin. Jane scrambled down from the cart with a bit more dignity, but not much, and was soon wrapped in Mary's skirts as she clung to her mother and Mary attempted to cling right back. Then Mary was reaching for Jackson, wanting to touch her son as well, and Joshua was wrapping Mary and Jane up in the hug as well and then there they were, all together again, laughing and crying.

Annis was smiling and Aaron was staring and things were just starting. The next day would bring new trials and tribulations and an eventual move as they left this town and the horribly ignorant people who lived here behind, but that was tomorrow. Right now, Mary couldn't think of anything better in the world than to stand here with her arms around her family.

* * *

This chapter is pretty much the end of this particular arc. The next chapter is a montage and then Nicholas St. North shows up in the chapter after that and that's where the plot really starts kicking in.

**Fun note:** It was very, very tempting to have Thomas call Jack a vampire, but American colonists would honestly have had no idea what a vampire was. While there's been stories of evil, blood-sucking monsters for pretty much the entirety of recorded human history, they wouldn't fall under the umbrella-term "vampire" until the early 1700s in Eastern Europe, particularly Transylvania. The story would eventually reach Western Europe by the late 18th – early 19th centuries and America by the 1800s.

However, _revenants_ had been part of English folklore since at least the High Middle Ages. Nowadays, the stories about revenants are considered either early vampire or early zombie stories, but in truth revenants have little to do with either, especially in modern times. A revenant, you see, is a solid ghost or animated corpse whose purpose is terrorizing the living. Unlike modern zombie stories, there was usually only one revenant at a time, not a hoard, and they usually had a specific purpose in their actions, such has going after someone who they believed wronged them or greedily gathering the things they believed they were owed or simply terrorizing their family or friends.

Early vampires, in comparison, were considered to be a specific type of revenant, namely the ghost/corpse of an evil being, a witch, or a suicide victim. Non-revenant vampires could also be created by a demon or other malevolent spirit possessing a corpse or by the old classic of being bitten by a vampire. Despite the connection, very few revenants were vampires just as all vampires are not necessarily revenants. Nevertheless, there is enough similarity that the way to get rid of a revenant is pretty much the same as getting rid of a vampire. Among many methods, one could bind the hands and feet of the corpse so it couldn't dig it's way up (not something done lightly because it was believed that binding a corpse could impede the soul from reaching it's proper resting place), staking the body through the heart or just removing the heart entirely, burying the body face down so that the corpse would just dig itself deeper instead of out, or just outright burning the body. You'll, of course, notice that Thomas attempted most of these before being stopped.


	9. Chapter 9: Montage

Exactly what the title says: a montage. Minor character death this chapter.

* * *

_**Chapter 9: Montage**_

That first year was the worst. Not only had their family had to leave the town soon after being reunited because the people there hadn't liked the idea of Jack and Jane staying, but as spring turned to summer, the Overlands found out about the sickness for the first time.

They had managed to travel for quite awhile on the goods Annis Jones had insisted on giving them in reparation. Her morals and Thomas's guilty conscience wouldn't allow her to take "no" for an answer. Eventually the Overlands outran the rumors and managed to find a small village on the edge of the wilderness to settle in. The Overlands were happily welcomed in and had managed to get a sturdy foothold when the sickness started.

At first, it seemed like Jack was being a bit of a layabout as he took forever to rouse in the morning. Then he started falling asleep whenever he was too close to the fireplace and wouldn't wake until he was forcefully removed. Not long after, as the weather grew even warmer, he started falling asleep outside, often in the middle of performing some sort of task. Jack was embarrassed by his sudden bouts of narcolepsy and didn't understand it at all. When questioned about what caused it, Jack just replied that he felt hot and it made him feel tired. Mary started feeling for his temperature and noted that whenever Jack suddenly dropped, he felt a bit warmer than usual.

Then came the day when Jack wouldn't wake at all. A cold bath roused him enough for them to get water and thinned gruel into him, but he fell asleep immediately after as the water warmed to room temperature. Later, they would learn to keep blocks of ice cut from the local lake during the winter in an underground room surrounded by straw to keep them from melting during the summer heat, but that first year all they knew was that Jack was sick and that he could only be half-awoken temporarily by a cold bath. By the time autumn came, the weather cooled, and Jack started actually waking up and staying awake for a few hours at a time, everyone in their new home knew Jackson Overland was sick.

The villagers were actually very kind about it. The men helped Joshua Overland dig a cellar under his house and later helped him and Jack cut and move the blocks of ice that winter. The ladies helped pack straw around the ice and, when summer and the sickness came once again, chipped off pieces of ice and carried them up to where Mary and Jane kept vigil. Later, little Adam Grey would ask why, if they needed to keep Jack cool, didn't they just keep Jack with the ice? It was a good question and once Joshua carried Jack down to the cellar, it made an immediate improvement in Jack. He'd still drop off, but he actually spent some time awake even in the hottest months.

After that, for awhile, things were nice. Yes, they worried about Jack during the months that were too hot for him – his actually being awake simultaneously made him the best and worst patient ever – but aside from putting up with the odd prank he planned and played out in boredom, they managed to actually get him some schooling. Reading, writing, and arithmetic were studied with all the diligence of someone unable to actually leave a room. Jack obviously preferred conversations, however, and actually spent more time sitting with his mother in the cellar as they knit or weaved together. Jane took over most of the cooking during those months and her skills with baking were starting to become mildly famous. As for the villagers, any real oddities about Jack were put down as a side-effect of his sickness and from late fall to early spring, he made them all laugh and smile. Only the Overlands knew the sickness was because their son was a winter spirit trapped in human form and thus unable to follow the cold weather as he should have been.

* * *

_The village didn't fair well after the Overlands left. The flock of sheep Joshua had sold to his neighbors sickened and died, mostly because the new owners had no clue how to care for sheep. Refusing to accept blame, the new owners claimed the death of the sheep was because Jane had sent Jack to curse them before leaving. After the loss of the flock, cloth had to be purchased wholesale from traveling traders. One of the merchants carried goods tainted with a disease the villagers hadn't faced in generations and they suffered for it._

_Pastor Smith insisted on ministering to the dying. He would be the last person buried in the churchyard, because it quickly became easier to leave the bodies in their homes and torch the houses. The last few survivors fled after burning the tainted buildings, taking the sickness with them. But don't feel too bad for Pastor Smith. Those who have managed to translate a few words of the complicated language of Moonbeams insist the Moonbeams talk of a ghost of a preacher sometimes visiting MiM and watching the Earth with a smile. Of course, whether or not that's true, only MiM could say and he's not known for being chatty._

* * *

Jane was fifteen and she was in love. His name was Henri Moreau and he was a French trapper by trade. He was tall and strong and handsome. He could wrap his broad hands around Jane's waist and lift her with ease, a feat that made her giggle and blush madly. Even better, he was established in his trade and yet was slightly less than a decade older than her. Jack teased her mercilessly all that summer because, whenever she stopped by his cellar, it was always, "Henri this" and "Henri that" and she ended up talking about nothing else. The ribbing was good-natured, however, and Jack willingly offered advice when Jane asked.

Jack still wasn't aging, but thankfully the townspeople were putting it down as Jack being sick enough to waste away and not that Jack wasn't changing at all. It was obvious to Jane and their parents that he was always going to be that way, just as he was always going to suffer from heat sickness every summer because of his inability to fly away from the weather when it grew too warm for frost. It was also why Jane refused when Henri proposed.

Henri had kept going on about sweeping her off her feet and whisking her away from family and duties and it sounded wonderful, but Jane was bound to Jack or, more accurately, he was bound to her. Henri wouldn't and hadn't understood when Jane had insisted Jack was her responsibility. Henri hadn't liked being brushed off and had demanded an explanation. Her own heart breaking at having to end things, Jane had told Henri a partial truth – that Jack was very special and his life had been magically bound to Jane's by a witch. Henri had promptly turned around a threatened to tell the village that Jack had been cursed by a witch if Jane didn't marry him and come with him when he left. Jane was appalled, but she couldn't leave Jack. She didn't think the binding would actually let her, not to mention there was no telling if Pitch would take advantage of that sort of separation. So Jane said no once again, this time much more forcefully.

Henri followed through with his threat and offered Jane a place to stay while her brother and parents were forced to leave by the villagers, whose eyes were now darkened by Pitch's fear. Jane just turned her nose up at him and left with her family. She let anger carry her for several miles while her parents gave her worried looks and Jack lay insensate in the heat in the back of the wagon. Later, she'd feel guilty that part of her anger was at Jack, because while her binding to him was causing troubles, he hadn't been the one who wanted to be bound to begin with. Later still, during one of Jack's lucid periods, he held her while Jane cried for love lost and love that would never be. Not just hers, but Jack's as well, because who would want to form a relationship with a boy who did not age?

* * *

_Annis didn't really talk with Thomas for those last two weeks Jack and Jane stayed with them while Jack healed. She talked _at_ him, giving orders she obviously expected to be obeyed, but that was it. It wasn't until after she'd tended to all of Jack's aches and cuts and bruises and she'd dropped off Jack and Jane with enough goods to at least get the family started off somewhere safe that she'd gone back and had a long chat with her husband._

_The next time Thomas went to town, he found out six children had recently been orphaned by a fire. They ranged in age from two to fifteen with the oldest, a girl, trying to support her family single-handedly because the next oldest and eldest boy had been injured in the fire and the rest were too young to perform the hard labor that was the only thing available in the small town. Thomas and Annis talked and then took the children in. The Home Farm thrived as a result. Thomas was able to take Annis out to town on occasion and the children took turns as to who got to go to market._

_Three years later, Annis and Thomas also took in a girl who'd made a bad decision and had to put up with the boy who'd also made said bad decision making an even worse one. The resulting baby boy was doted on, especially by Annis and Thomas's oldest boy, who was still unable to do much hard work thanks to the accident that had orphaned him but who made up for it by being very good with numbers and ledgers. He eventually married the girl and adopted the boy, naming the child his heir even after he and his wife had nearly a dozen more together._

_Several of Annis and Thomas's girls married soon after their brother and soon there was a veritable town, the speed at which houses sprung up in the area. When Annis died, Thomas followed not long after from a broken heart. Both, however, were surrounded by the family they'd made for themselves. Eventually a greedy descendent would sell the land to make way for more buildings in the town, but for nigh a century after Annis and Thomas passed on, the Home Farm would live up to its name._

* * *

The Overlands headed north and settled in a proper city. There were more people to worry about, yes, but there was also enough people that it was easier to get lost amongst the crowd. Mary and Joshua were fully aware of their daughter's talents in baking by this point and so it made sense to them to open a bakery. Joshua ran the counter with help from Jack when it wasn't too hot and Mary helped Jane in the kitchen, where she worked her magic.

The bakery was a minor success, although rule number one was quickly established. Jack was not allowed in the kitchen because the heat of the ovens would send him into a fit of heat sickness even in the dead of winter. Jack, of course, took the rule as a challenge and started timing how long he could last before passing out. It was a game to him, seeing if he could last long enough to find something sweet to swipe before he ran out of time and his body betrayed him and his family was forced to drag him out into the snow to revive him. Mary, Joshua, and even Jane quickly developed ways to deal with their winter imp's somewhat self-destructive game. Mary, of course, had the best luck, sometimes guilt-tripping Jack out of his mischief entirely. Jack's little challenge never seemed to do any permanent damage and Jack never tried it when there wasn't snow around to immediately rouse him with. Nevertheless, it was still somewhat alarming to enter the kitchen and stumble across his body on the occasion Jane hid the goods well enough that Jack failed in his self-appointed mission.

And when Jack succeeded without making himself pass out? That was why the tab ledger was started and Jack often ended up cheerfully working off his self-incurred debt during the summer months where he was essentially cooped up with the ice and cold-room goods. He actually made most of his family's clothes himself now, as well as kept track of the bakery ledgers, making sure all their debts were paid and that they had enough socked away for when they eventually had to move. And move they did.

They started lying about Jack's age, claiming he was as young as thirteen or fourteen when they first moved somewhere and then moving again when he was supposedly seventeen or eighteen or even as old as nineteen and people started wondering when he would grow up and fill his gangly frame. A few times, the Fear struck, but they managed to stay ahead of it mostly. They lasted quite awhile like that, moving into a town or city and starting a bakery and keeping their ear to the ground for news about spirits.

Jack once saw the Sandman at a distance, but was unable to get close enough to actually catch his attention before he left. The stories of the Easter Bunny were relatively new, but they felt it was worth a shot, but while brightly painted eggs appeared, they never saw nor caught the spirit responsible. Everyone, of course, knew about the Tooth Fairy but when they'd tried baiting a trap with the last of Jane's baby teeth, all they got was a brief flash of bright feathers, a shrill squeak when Jack tried grabbing the tiny creature, and her disappearing so fast that they both wondered if they'd actually seen her at all. The Sinterklaas guy the Dutch settlers talked about seemed like a good bet but despite staying up all night on December 5th and into the morning of December 6th, they agreed that he probably didn't exist. Either that, or he only visited the Dutch and they weren't quite desperate enough to raid someone's house in an effort to find out if the guy was even real. (When they did grow desperate enough, they were very disappointed to just find a regular man dressed in nice robes and hat who hadn't the least clue about magic at all. They apologized and gave the man and the family whose holiday they'd interrupted free goods from their bakery for a month.)

They did find a few spirits. The first was a nasty piece of work and they'd been forced to flee before it could hurt them. The second was a native and, while initially hostile, proved to be quite nice once they made it clear they weren't looking for a fight. Unfortunately, they didn't speak his language and the barrier it formed prevented any meaningful conversation before they were forced to go different ways. The last one was a little man they called Oswald and he was either newer than Jack or extremely confused. Perhaps both. He was so excited at being seen and talked to that it took Jack and Jane forever to get him calmed down enough to actually speak to them and once they did, he only talked in nonsensical non sequiturs. They suspected he was some sort of brownie because he followed them home and made himself a nuisance by cleaning everything. Jane started mixing a pile of salt and sugar together on a far table to keep him happily occupied separating them while she baked. If she didn't, she'd have to worry about him stealing the dishware she used for baking before she was done with it because he'd dump bowls and pans filled with dough and baked goods right into soapy water so he could wash away the "mess". On the plus-side, the bakery had never been so clean and when the time came for them to move, he hid in the wagon with Jack (or perhaps Jack hid him in the wagon) and he came with.

* * *

"Jack, stop!" Jane ordered. She didn't like the man attempting to woo her any more than Jack did, but that was no reason to start a fight and she wasn't about to have him hurt on her account. To her surprise, Jack obeyed, looking pained as he did so and took a stance that was neither defensive nor offensive. He looked even more pained when the man's blow landed, knocking him off his feet. Their father intervened at that point, stepping between Jack and the would-be suitor and threatening to sue the man for harming his son. Later, once they were safely inside and Jane was icing down Jack's black eye, she asked why he stopped.

"You told me to."

"So? I tell you to do things all the time and you only obey them when you want to."

"You did something this time. It made the bindings react and they made me obey. It felt like I was a puppet in my own body," Jack admitted in distaste.

"What?" Jane asked in dismay. She didn't want to be able to control Jack, not like that or at all even.

"You ordered me to do something."

"But I've ordered you around before. You've never had to obey!"

"Maybe that's why?" Jack pointed out. Jane opened her mouth to retort before the thought really permeated and made her stop. Had she ever really ordered Jack and expected him to obey before? She didn't think she had. Usually she was just making requests, not demands. The few times she had ordered Jack around prior to this, it had always been with the undercurrent belief that if he didn't want to obey, then he wouldn't. This most recent time, it had been accompanied with the underlying thought that if Jack didn't obey, she would make him. In her fear and desire to keep him from being hurt, she'd done worse to her brother than his attacker.

"Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry."

Jack wrapped his arms around her and shushed her when she started to cry.

"Hey, it's not that bad. You'll just have to be more careful from now on."

Jane nodded and said, "I will."

* * *

The funeral was small but lovely. Mary Overland had been nigh sixty when the pneumonia had taken her. Jack and Jane managed to bury her next to their father, Joshua, who had died not long after they came to this town a few years before. There had been an accident and the resulting infection in his leg had been what killed him. Their tombstone stood in a fairly new graveyard and Jane vaguely hoped they'd be able to visit, although that didn't seem likely since they were soon forced to leave.

After both deaths, Oswald had made a huge mess in his grief, although he'd cleaned it up so swiftly right after it was actually impossible to tell there's been a mess at all. Jane thought Oswald had done it because cleaning made him feel better. Their 'pet' spirit still talked nonsense, but Jack had managed to train him to say 'yes', 'no', and to shrug when he didn't know.

Jack... was taking their parents deaths even harder than Jane. He'd later confess that it was because as far as he knew, he'd never get to see them again. After all, he was Winter now, so he wouldn't join them wherever they were until Winter ceased to exist. Jane didn't like to think about that. She herself was nearly thirty and had a few strands of silver in her dark brown hair.

Despite her age, her gender meant Jane was a highly sought commodity. Women were rare compared to the number of men in the colonies and Jane's lack of husband was looked down upon and seen as something to be quickly remedied. Jane honestly wouldn't have minded marrying if she could find a man who was truly interested in her and was capable of accepting Jack and all that he was. Most men were interested more in the property Jane owned because it would become theirs upon marriage according to British law. The very few that were interested in Jane herself didn't like Jack, seeing him as a potential threat for any heirs they could beget on Jane. And so she remained single.

Being single wasn't that bad. She had more freedom than her married counterparts, being allowed to own property and claim guardianship of Jack. The downside was that many people didn't like to do business with her or would speak badly about her behind her back. Jack's presence helped because women would coo about him taking over the bakery one day and he'd charm them with a tale of how Jane refused to take a man who wouldn't treat Jack as his own. Once they got them in the door to begin with, most came back after tasting Jane's wares. Many a wife had helped keep Jane in business, even when the summer heat kept Jack locked away with heat sickness.

Despite that, things were much harder in the first town they moved to after their parents' deaths. Jane's reputation was enough that they were barely breaking even their first year there and going back and forth between the kitchen and the selling counter once summer came and Jack couldn't help exhausted Jane. After a brief discussion in the cold-room, Jane advertised a position for a helper. They interviewed many people before finally settling on a girl barely in her teens who hoped to earn money to supplement her meager dowry. They informed the girl, Matilda, of the rules and Jack's sickness and, after the poor girl was nearly scared out of her wits, Oswald.

Oswald normally avoided the public parts of the bakery while it was open because he greatly disliked being walked through. Thus, after cleaning the living quarters, he spent most of his time in kitchen getting underfoot and in the way and would clean the public part once they closed shop for the day. Matilda upset that rather delicate balance just by being there. She hadn't seen him and had walked right through him while fetching freshly baked goods, which prompted Oswald to retaliate by whisking empty trays right out of her hands and cleaning them fiercely. Matilda had yelled her fool head off about an evil spirit in the kitchen before Jane, who'd quickly noticed the poor girl was smitten, sent Jack to manage her. He charmed her into calming down enough for him to explain Oswald was actually a helpful spirit and from then on Matilda always announced when she was entering the kitchen and eventually even saw Oswald.

Matilda being smitten with Jack wasn't a good thing. At first, she just tried ingratiating herself, bringing him cookies and even trying to sit vigil during the summer until Jack pointedly informed her during one of his lucid periods that she was supposed to be helping Jane. She tried learning to read and write so she could help with the ledgers, but only screwed them up so Jack had to redo them. It got worse when she got older and realized Jack wasn't aging. She tried to force Jack to make her his immortal bride and wouldn't believe him when he tried telling her he couldn't. Eventually, she committed suicide, leaving behind a poorly written note accusing Jack of being a demonic faerie prince who'd stolen her heart and wouldn't give it back.

Jack felt guilty about her death, which was made worse by her parents' blame. The note made people start paying closer attention to the siblings oddities, forcing them to move again. Worse, the scandal meant Jane had to sell the bakery at a fraction of what it was actually worth. The next town, they spent a year in the poorhouse trying to make up the difference so they could start a bakery once more.

Oswald stayed in the poorhouse when they finally left, helping give those unfortunates a clean place to stay because they usually returned from back-breaking labor too tired to attempt cleaning themselves. Jack and Jane never saw him again after that, but both smiled happily at the thought of him and wished him well. It took awhile, but Jane eventually got out of the habit of making a pile of sugar and salt on the far counter of the kitchen.

* * *

"Jane?"

"Yes?" Jane replied even as she absently pushed a lock of hair, more silver than brown now, out of her face. She and Jack were taking advantage of Sunday being a rest day to look through books for potential information about spirits. The books were borrowed, of course, being far too expensive in the colonies for them to just buy them. Unfortunately, their rarity also meant they rarely had any on the subject Jack and Jane needed the most information about.

"How old am I?"

"We told them you were fourteen when we came into town, which was two years ago, so sixteen," she answered with barely a thought.

"Jane... How old am I really?" Jack insisted, not happy with her answer. Jane opened her mouth to reply only to frown and close it as she looked up and gave her older brother a confused look.

"How old are you really?" she repeated. Jack nodded.

"How old was I when I died?"

Jane couldn't answer. She didn't have one beyond, 'older than me'. They'd been so many places and lied about his age so many times, that she simply couldn't recall. Jack had obviously been a teenager when he'd died, but Jane couldn't even remember if he had barely been one or about to leave the teens or somewhere in between.

"I don't know," she finally admitted. Jack pursed his lips and nodded.

"Me neither," he admitted.

* * *

Her hair was white and cold weather made her ache and she had a cough that had lingered on far longer than it should have. She was older than their parents had been when they'd died. Jack, who could never pass as a legal adult, had gone from being her brother to her son to her grandson in their lies to their neighbors. She was old enough that she had very few suitors now and most people accepted her age and Jack's apparent age and position as heir as reason not to marry. Mostly, though, Jane worried.

Time was passing them by far too quickly. People started feeling disgruntled because after the Seven Years War had involved battles with the French and natives here in America, Britain started getting pushy. Jane understood the need to pay for the war, she did, but the Parliament's lack of acknowledgment, especially about the taxes the colonists were already paying to the local governors, was frustrating. People were starting to feel restless and angry about their lack of representation in the government that insisted it had power over them even an ocean away. The Sugar Act, the Stamp Act, the Revenue Act, all of the Townshend Acts, and more recently the occupation of Boston by British forces and the resulting massacre two years later spoke of a pot about to boil over. Jane just hoped she and Jack weren't caught in the middle of the mess. Worse, they'd never found any other spirits, even in their increasingly desperate attempts to find one and catch their attention.

Jane was old and she was dying and she was very much aware of how very little time they had left.

* * *

**Notes:** Terry Pratchett fans will probably notice I borrowed Oswald from _A Hat Full Of Sky _and crossed him with one of North's elves. He was incredibly fun to write and I was tempted to keep him but it's probably for the best I didn't because this way he got a happy ending.


	10. Chapter 10: The Search For Winter

I think it might be time to remind everyone that this is currently a story within a story.

* * *

**_Chapter 10: The Search for Winter_**

_Present Day_

"Would anyone like some tea or coffee?" Jane asked the Guardians gathered around a table in her bakery. Tooth blinked and jerked as she came back to the current time, having been so caught up in the story the woman was telling. She was very good, even weaving in Jack's own interjections and knowledge they'd later gained into a seamless whole. A look at the clock ticking quietly on the wall behind the counter made Tooth flutter up in the air in alarm.

"Is it really that late?"

"You were warned is long story," North pointed out genially. "Perhaps we should stop for evening?"

"Wait, you're leaving off there?" Aster asked, frustration written all across his face.

"I am. I'm feeling parched," Jane said, "but the next bit is probably best told by Jack and North anyway. If you plan on staying, that is?"

"Yes," Tooth insisted firmly. "Just give me some time to make sure my girls are all on-shift. Fifteen minutes, tops."

"That will give me time to make some coffee," Jane agreed. While the women went their separate ways, the men stood and stretched and milled around the main room of the bakery.

"Was it... really like that?" Aster asked Jack while Sandy – who had been subtly sending out streams of sand all night – and North looked at the pictures on the walls.

"Yes," Jack admitted, "But it wasn't all bad and things have gotten a lot better since then. It's not perfect, but we're good now."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to help. I'm supposed to bring hope and I wasn't there for you. Either of you."

"Yeah, well, you mostly focus on kids, right? Jane and I haven't been children for a very long time, so don't feel so guilty, Cottontail."

"Cottontail?" Aster replied, twitching.

"I'm sorry. Do you prefer Kangaroo?"

Aster twitched again, wanting to knock that smirk off the larrikin's face and doing his best to hide that fact. He'd been trying to be nice...

"Ah, come on, you're no fun when you're not grumpy and irritable," Jack stated with a pout at Aster's lack of reaction.

"Grumpy and irritable? I'll show you grumpy and irritable," Aster threatened, hiding the joy that filled him when Jack lit up at the prospect of a verbal sparring match. Then Aster had to stare in shock when Jack was forcefully dragged away by his hood, leaving the pooka feeling oddly disappointed.

"Behave, imp," Jane requested with a knowing smile, "or we'll never finish the story before sunrise."

Tooth came back not long after, the cloud of fairies that had been hanging around now greatly diminished.

"Now, where were we?" North asked, stroking his beard.

"Jane was sick," Jack replied.

"Ah, yes! And my part was just starting," North said before continuing on with the story from his viewpoint.

* * *

_Bolton Strid, December 1771_

This section of Yorkshire was very beautiful. And very dangerous, not unlike the person Nicholas St. North was here to meet. Even the humans acknowledged both with winding trails through the lovely forest and brightly painted warning signs posted near the Strid. Even with an invitation, even with all his years of daring-do, North didn't dare approach the Strid. It looked like a swiftly-running stream, a simple babbling brook and it roared like a waterfall. That roar was the only warning as to how dangerous the innocuous-looking waterway truly was. Upstream, the River Wharfe was much, much wider and deeper than a man was tall. Here, in the Strid, the river narrowed enough that it looked liked a man could easily leap or even stride right over the waterway. Those that tried found that failure resulted in much worse than wet boots. No one who entered the waterway at this point ever survived. Many were never found, not even at the priory downstream that had been founded by a mother hoping to recover her son's body from the river at the point its anger finally mellowed.

It was here that Mother Nature had asked North to meet her. The last time had been Tsingy de Bemaraha in what would soon be known as the Kingdom of Madagascar, where North had watched her wander around razor-sharp rocks on a path where a single misstep would result in one falling on more razor-sharp rocks, these ones shaped like spikes ready to impale the unsuspecting. There, he watched her with creatures like white monkeys and brilliant red dragonflies and geckos with heads like crocodiles and tails like leaves, and so many plants that North doubted even Ombric had a name for them all.

Mother Nature loved her death traps. The Boiling Lake in Dominica, the Afar Triangle in Africa – home of earthquakes – Australia. And those were just the ones on land that were actively trying to kill any humans that ventured there. There were more at sea and many more that were much more subtle in their danger. Australia, North suspected was a message, although to who and what the message was, North didn't know. Perhaps it was to Bunny. Or perhaps it was on behalf of Bunny, a way to protect the nest he had underneath the dangerous land with even more dangerous flora and fauna. North didn't know and it wasn't his business so he wasn't going to ask. That way lay trouble he didn't have time to deal with, not if he wanted to be ready in time for Christmas, which was just days away.

So North turned away from the Strid and toward a path made of late fall flowers blooming despite the frost-covered ground of winter. He followed the path but walked beside the walkway of flowers because he didn't want to crush them and upset his host. The winding walkway ended at a lovely little glen where old stumps and logs had been, with the help of imagination and a tad of magic, turned into a table and chairs. A hot pot of tea and tea cups, all in delicate bone china painted with, of course, a matching nature theme stood ready and waiting. The beautiful and dangerous Mother Nature herself was seated in one of the chairs and regally inclined her head at North in invitation even as her hands smoothed the skirts of the exquisite green dress she wore. North quickly took a seat.

"Thank you for seeing me, North," Mother Nature said as she poured out some tea.

"The pleasure is mine," Nicholas St. North replied as he accepted an eggshell-thin cup from her and concentrated on not fumbling the delicate thing least he break it or get a lap full of hot tea.

"That is kind of you to say, but I know how busy you tend to be, so I will make this short. MiM made a new Winter Spirit about, oh, sixty years ago."

"Man in Moon? That is odd. I am thinking you made seasonal spirits, especially spirits _of_ seasons."

"Usually, yes, but MiM insisted this one was very special, and so I allowed it."

"Special how?" North asked, curious. Mother Nature shrugged.

"He didn't say and I didn't ask. I believed I would find out when he came to the meeting. But he didn't come to the meeting. Then I felt foolish, because as a new spirit, of course he'd have no way of knowing I have a meeting when the full moon falls on the winter solstice. So when the next meeting came around, I made sure to send out a messenger to let him know."

"Of course, makes sense," North agreed, "And so you learned how he is special, da?"

"No. We ended up starting the meeting late because the messenger couldn't find him at all. And the meeting after that one ended up revolving around how to find our missing Winter Spirit."

By this point, North was getting an uneasy feeling in his belly, and his belly had never steered him wrong. He silently gestured for Mother Nature to continue.

"We recently just finished with the fourth meeting of Seasonal Spirits since MiM created the new Spirit of Winter and not one of us, none of us at all, have managed to locate him," Mother Nature admitted, a worried look on her face, and that was indeed disturbing news, because that meant that even the Four Winds couldn't find the spirit. "The seasons are in balance. Winter still exists, so _he_ must exist, just as MiM says, but I don't like not being able to find him. It bodes ill. What's worse is the North Wind admitted to having seen him before, back when he was still brand new, and it was more than enough to forge the connection all my Seasons have with the Winds, and still nothing. It is like something is blocking the bond."

"This is... very grave news. I am sure all of the Guardians are more than happy to help find the missing Winter Spirit."

"Good," Mother Nature said with a smile, "But considering the way my father has been causing trouble over the past few years, I'm hoping you're the only one we shall need. I would hate to pull the others away from their duties or from keeping an eye out for Pitch just to find a wayward spirit."

"Ah. So the reason you choose me is being?"

"I know about the list, North."

"List? What list?" North said, trying to look innocent and aware he was failing badly.

"The special list. The one that names the location of every spirit on the Earth so that they receive a Christmas present, even if their nature would normally land them on your Naughty list."

North was sure he looked as guilty as he felt. Such a list was a dangerous thing to have. If something or someone evil got its hand on it, every spirit in the world would be in danger. But North didn't like the idea on a spirit missing out on all the wonder he could bring just because, for example, Coyote was mischievous by nature. All spirits tended to be lonely by nature and it was good to remind each other they weren't alone.

"I shall look and we shall find him."

"Thank you, North."

* * *

North entering the vault at his workshop was an impressive sight. Numerous locks spun and bolts slid and metal and wood parted without a single touch as he approached and passed through, flanked by an armored honor guard of yetis. The room that was normally kept sealed was brightly lit to keep shadows to a minimum and all of the important items stood on pedestals of crystal and ice that reflected the light and refracted it into numerous little rainbows.

The yeti who'd flanked North stood at attention just inside the door, weapons held firmly in large, furry grips. North ignored them and strode past pedestals holding items of great power, including an oddly shaped golden sword, snow globes permanently set to hidden destinations, and a large book with a golden G embossed on the front. The item that held his attention, the reason why he was in the vault at all, was on a pedestal in the back. It was a simple scroll, plain in comparison to the other treasures in the room, tied shut with a silver ribbon. North picked up the scroll, untied the ribbon, and unrolled the scroll enough to read its contents.

"Bah! Would be easier if I had name," he complained to Mother Nature, who had trailed him into the room and was even now looking at some of the items with her hands politely folded behind her back so she wouldn't touch as she was tempted to do.

"Jack Frost is his name," she offered, "or so I've been informed." North paused and then half-nodded and half-shrugged at the same time.

"Is good name for winter spirit," he stated before leaning forward slightly and whispering to the blank scroll, "Show me Jack Frost."

Letters swam across the scroll, forming the name "Jack Frost" before something strange began to happen. It was like someone was crossing out the name faster and faster until it was just a black scribble that extended faster than any other words could appear and even the name itself was utterly demolished and hidden. Then it stopped, a mass of horrible black covering the name and any information the scroll held. Mother Nature scowled at the sight.

"Is it broken?"

"I am thinking no," North replied before commanding the scroll, "Show me Mother Nature."

Immediately, the black mess covering the scroll left and up floated the information for the woman standing right beside him, complete with a picture.

_Seraphina Pitchiner_, the writing on the scroll informed them, _Titles: Mother Nature, Mother Earth, Gaia, Nightmare Princess (unacknowledged). Location: Workshop Vault, Santoff Claussen ver. 2, North Pole, Earth._

"So it is working. Has anyone been in here?" she inquired. North looked at the yetis, who babbled in return that no one had slipped past them, not even a shadow, and the room was too well lit, the shadows inside too diffuse, for anything to have come in any other way.

"Answer is no," North repeated unnecessarily because Mother Nature spoke the language of all living things, "and if someone had come in, would be missing something. No one would sneak in just to black out name and picture of spirit in scroll. Mess must involve spirit."

"We need to find him, North," Mother Nature stressed. North took her hand and patted it.

"Yes, we do. I will have yeti help me find anything odd in regular lists. Everyone who believes in spirits ends up on lists and how can a spirit not believe? Would have to not believe in own self!"

"But those lists are just names."

"So? My magic tells me where each name is located! It will take time, but we will find Jack Frost in lists and then we will find Jack Frost! Just in time for Christmas! Haha!"

* * *

"Well, this is quite the reversal," Jack teased quietly as he set down the tray of food before he sat vigil at his sister's bedside. She managed to give him a weak smile even as she moved a hand in an offer to take his. Jack took it, even though he hated the way her skin felt so fragile, like simply gripping too hard would cause a bruise or, worse, a tear. It also felt hot, like her temperature rising made his drop correspondingly. Maybe it did. He took her hand, though, because she was more important than his misgivings and it was one of the few ways he could show her how much he cared.

Jane looked awful. Over the passing decades, Jack had gotten used to the fact that having easy access to sweets had made Jane plump. Hugging her had been like hugging the softest pillows in the world and he honestly thought she'd never looked prettier. The most recent bought of sickness, however, had included weight loss. She was nearly as thin as she'd been as a young woman and she'd never looked so sick, as if she was wasting away. It was horrible.

"Do you feel up to eating anything?" Jack asked hopefully, wanting nothing more than to make Jane plump and pretty and healthy once more but knowing forcing her to eat when her body couldn't handle it would just make her more visibly sick.

"Mmm... maybe a little. You should eat too. You look horrible."

Jack managed a bitter smile as he replied, "I'll look better when you do."

It was something they'd discovered decades ago, back when they still remembered how old Jack actually was. While Jack's heat sickness, which was the only sickness he ever contracted, never affected Jane personally, any sickness Jane caught would affect Jack. When she'd caught the pox – thankfully one of the milder ones that didn't result in death – they'd actually thought Jack was the one sick at first. He'd been nauseous and achy and had a headache that wouldn't go away in addition to fatigue and a general feeling of malaise. Their parents had immediately pounced on him, worried the heat sickness had come early and changed for the worst. Having lost him to death for the better part of a year did little to make them less protective, despite Jack's complaints at being coddled. Jane worried right alongside them, pushing aside her own, milder feelings of sickness away as sympathy pains, at least until the rash appeared. As soon as they started taking care of Jane, Jack started feeling better and once she was healthy, so was he, which basically confirmed the suspicion that Jack's human form was very much tied to Jane's life-force. Right now, for that very fact, Jack felt and no doubt looked as bad as Jane did.

"Are you getting enough to eat?" Jane asked.

"Yes," Jack lied without missing a beat. He was also suffering from Jane's loss of appetite, and thus had taken to eating what she couldn't from the trays he fixed. It also saved them money, which was very important right now. He didn't dare let Jane know that, however, or she'd eat even less than she had been. Thanks to the heat sickness, Jack knew full well he could live quite well on less food than a normal person. He didn't like to, because a gnawing stomach is never pleasant, but he could neither gain weight from too much nor lose weight from too little. He could survive with no food. Jane couldn't.

Money was also quickly becoming an issue. Doctor Roberts willingly paid visits in exchange for whatever baked goods they could give him, thanks to Jack having charmed him and having let the man study his heat sickness. Even better, he didn't demand payment even though they were behind on the baked goods. Jane wasn't up for much time in the kitchen any longer. Jack managed a few things – the invention of the cast-iron stove meant he could stay in the kitchen longer than ever before – but he had to keep careful timing of how long he could stay before the heat got to him in addition to timing the baking. And, quite frankly, he wasn't as good at baking as Jane. Still, it and their savings was enough to pay the doctor and pay rent and the apothecary for Jane's medicine with a little left over for food other than bread. The savings were running low, though. At this rate, they might manage to eke out another two months before they were kicked out into the poorhouse. Jane wouldn't survive such a move, assuming she could even last for two months.

The shadows and the Fear were thicker lately, like Pitch was already exulting in his eventual win. The War of the Regulation down in North Carolina had ended in favor of the Regulators, making mutters against the king and crown that much more frequent. Jack often felt like he was sitting in a pot that had started out with cold water but had been slowly heating up to the point that it was about to boil over. Whatever was about to happen, Jack had the feeling people were about to die. He just prayed Pitch's ownership of him wouldn't be the cause.

Jack had one last desperate attempt to get spiritual help up his sleeve. The Moon – or whoever was responsible for it – hadn't said anything in decades. Jane had suggested that perhaps he couldn't after that first surge of acknowledgment and belief. That didn't mean he hadn't been helpful. The few times they'd had to run in the night to escape the Fear, the nights were always brightly lit with moonlight, even when they really shouldn't have been. Sometimes beams of moonlight pointed out paths when they were lost or debating on where to go. That same light had temporarily blinded the nasty spirit they'd ran into and led them to both the native spirit and Oswald, even if neither had ended up being very helpful. Mum and Dad had called him their Moon Angel when they'd been alive. Most recently, whenever Jack had to run to the apothecary or out to get some more food, he'd see moonbeams playing down on children excited for Christmas and talking about someone called Santa Claus.

The name Santa Claus gave Jack pause because the whole Sinterklaas incident hadn't been that long ago – only a few moves back. But Santa Claus was associated with Christmas in general and Father Christmas in particular much more than he was identified with Sinterklaas. Jack had his doubts – he and Jane had tried to find a way to meet Father Christmas and had always failed – but he remembered his own year unseen and unheard by humans and all the times they had stumbled across evidence that Jack's own legend was much older than Jack himself. Jokul Frosti indeed. Perhaps someone had finally stepped in to fill the gap left by belief, much like Jack himself had.

And so Jack had asked the children all sorts of questions about Santa Claus and prepared the house for his arrival. Most importantly, Jack believed as hard as he could that this new spirit existed, that Jack would be able to catch his attention, that he could help them, that maybe, just maybe, he could save them. Jack believed because this tiny hope burning inside was all he had left. He had to, because this was their last chance. It was unlikely Jane would live to see the spring and while she avoided ordering him about, Jack had no doubts Pitch would use the binding to make him an obedient slave.

Jane was drifting off now, despite having managed only a few bites of the gruel and fruit Jack had prepared. He hadn't really expected anything else, honestly. He just smiled at her and kissed her forehead, lips cool and sweet against the warmth of her brow, before he removed the tray and left the room to eat it where Jane couldn't see. He wondered if Jane would feel up to baking cookies sometime in the next few days. She probably wouldn't be, but Jack could wheedle a recipe out of her if necessary. Apparently this Santa Claus guy had a fondness for them.

* * *

**Notes:** I put in an actual date! Honestly, you probably could have figured out the general time-frame just from all the mentions of stuff happening just before the American Revolutionary War broke out. Everything else is going to be kept purposely vague. Again, you can probably make an educated guess as to what my time-line is based on references to what's going on in the world around the characters, but this way allows for people with different time-lines to enjoy the story as well.

As for why I chose 1771, well, anyone willing to do the research can find out that the full-moon fell on December 21st that year. Admittedly, they didn't keep regular track of such things until 1793, but a quick look at an old almanac and a moon calendar plus a calculator reveals that most of the time, a full moon on a particular solstice happens about every 19 years. When they don't, it tends be a multiple of nineteen (38, 57) or a really random number (presumably because of leap years and the fact solstices on the Gregorian calendar can shift as much as 2.25 days). The first recorded full moon on the winter solstice was in 1809, so it's pretty easy to go from there and confirm it with a lunar calendar. Any further back the differences between the Julian and the Gregorian calendars get in the way. And yes, I could have used 1790 based on the above reasoning, but I have plans.

On a different note, all of those dangerous places actually exist and you can visit them! Just don't do so without ample safety precautions.


	11. Chapter 11: A Dark Christmas Eve

Chapter 11: A Dark Christmas Eve

Mother Nature ended up leaving long before North was done searching the lists, needing to get back to her duties. She needed to send out a few winter sprites to tend to avalanches since the Spirit of Winter wasn't and she herself had to get back to her reclamation duties.

"It's a constant battle, especially with those Europeans. They don't respect the land any more, just what it's worth to them in the terms of their stupid human money," she complained bitterly as she left.

North nodded, even as he remembered one of the reasons why he'd partially built his workshop into the side of the mountain was to avoid her ire. In this mood, it was easy to see the woman who was the tree that split rock, the lightning that caused forest fires, the storm that destroyed shorelines, and the sand that buried cities. Beautiful, yes, and oh so dangerous. Anything the humans abandoned even temporarily for a few hours was fair game to her (and even things that hadn't been abandoned at all). Moss and mold and fungi would grow in dark, damp corners, vines would climb and destroy brick, grass and flowers would grow between cobblestones before quickly overtaking them or displacing them as trees and shrubbery grew. The sites she reclaimed were both eerie and beautiful, proof of her power and drive. They were even wondrous in their own way, and North respected her for that. That didn't mean he didn't feel somewhat cheerful to see the back of her. Best to have her far away whilst she was in that mood.

Several hours later, North was in a very foul mood himself. Jack Frost wasn't on the Nice List or the Naughty List this year. North had even checked them twice. The finding spells he knew just returned a blank and combing through the names the long and non-magical way was also a bust. The yeti he had combing through the scrolls for previous years had also met with no luck, to their frustration as well as his. North let them go with several barked orders and they gladly left because the chaos of last-minute Christmas Eve preparations was preferable to being stuck in a room with an irritable North while hunting for a name that didn't exist. North himself wandered around the room, muttering under his breath until he felt a bit calmer before he fetched the scroll for the year Mother Nature told him the Winter Spirit had been created, took a seat, and unrolled the scroll.

"Show me Jack Frost," he ordered, repeating the finding spell and, to his great surprise, he got an answer. It was faded, barely legible, but the name was there, on the Nice List. North had never seen such a thing before but he wasted no time in focusing his power on the name, trying to find a location. All he got was a brief impression of white hair, pale skin, and ice-blue eyes and that was it. No age, no location, nothing. North huffed and shoved the scroll aside. It was now late afternoon on the twenty-third of December and he didn't have time for this. He would continue the search for the missing Winter Spirit after tending to his Christmas duties.

* * *

Jack was as ready as he could be. There was greenery scattered around, shoes for presents to be tucked into, the best of the cookies he'd made were on the table with freshly pumped water ready to wash them down, a note begging for help, and a simple trap that would hopefully slow down the spirit long enough for Jack to react, just in case this Santa Claus was as fast as the Tooth Fairy or Easter Bunny. Jane had been informed so she wouldn't be alarmed by any noise or by a strange being suddenly showing up, and had been tucked in with a hot water bottle under several layers of quilts. Jack found a comfy place to curl up by the unlit fireplace – both because Jack didn't want the heat to make him sick or sleepy and because threatening to burn someone who traveled through chimneys seemed rather mean-spirited – and was reading to pass the time. So he sat and waited and hoped and believed and, eventually, slept.

* * *

The boy – Jackson Overland, according to the list and North's magically-influenced intuition – looked older than his average believers tended to be, North noted even as he sighed sadly at the note that had been left beside the lightly burnt cookies. The home showed the dirt of neglect, the type that gathered when the people living there didn't have the time, energy, and/or health to clean properly, and the boy looked awful. He was far too pale and had dark bags under eyes so puffy, North wondered if he could open them at all. After a brief debate, North decided to let the boy get the sleep he so obviously needed, which also let North avoid waking him only to break the bad news that North couldn't give the boy his request. While a child dying was sad and the boy obviously being desperate enough to beg for help broke North's heart, there wasn't anything he could do to save the boy's sister, Jane. So North turned to leave by the oddly unlit fireplace and tripped right into a carefully laid snare. True to his nature, North dealt with the problem noisily.

* * *

Jack had become a light sleeper thanks to decades of being ready to move whenever the Fear came and woke immediately to the sounds of a crash and the oddest cursing he'd ever heard. He wasn't even sure it was cursing, although the tone of voice suggested it was. He bolted upright just when the spirit caught in the trap he'd laid made a sudden swing around in Jack's direction. The sword blade stopped far too close to Jack's neck, but at least it stopped.

Jack let out a shaky breath before taking in the spirit before him. He was immense, obviously so even hunched over as he was in the small room, with his form swathed in a lovely red coat. His hair was brown and wild looking, including his beard which was looking in need of a trim. Wide blue eyes stared at Jack in alarm before he uncoiled and put away the gorgeous sword with a sheepish smile. The snare, Jack noted, had been cut into pieces.

"Please, please tell me you speak English," Jack finally said.

The huge man blinked before replying, "Da! It is not my preferred language, but I am speaking the English."

"Oh thank God!" Jack fervently replied. "I was worried you wouldn't since your name is Santa Claus."

"Actually, I am Nicholas St. North. Santa Claus is more title."

"Oh," Jack replied before asking, "Did you get the note?" The large man winced.

"Yes, but I am not being able to help you. I am Spirit of Wonder, not Healing."

"Do you know a Spirit of Healing?" Jack asked, knowing he was grasping at straws but this couldn't be it! Otherwise, what was the point?

"Nyet. Very few of those that did are still around and those that still exist are not local to here and they do not like to travel. Very stingy, as well," North replied, looking pained.

Jack wilted. Jane wasn't healthy enough to travel, especially a long distance, to see someone who might not help anyway.

"This... this can't be it," Jack whispered even as he slid down into a ball, holding his knees. He startled when North put a hand on his shoulder.

"Death is... a hard thing to face. But is way of life. Your sister may be dying, but you will go on and one day you will be together again. That is the way of the world."

Jack shook his head but didn't look up, not until he heard a soft sound. When he looked around, he found that the man called North had left. Jack made a noise and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes as he bowed his head. Then he jumped when he felt a different hand, this one cold and crawling, against his spine. Empty-eyed shadows writhed and a familiar dark chuckle echoed in the room.

"I was wondering when that last little spark of hope would go out."

"Go away!" Jack growled as he leapt up and grabbed the fireplace poker to use as an impromptu weapon.

"Why are you denying the inevitable, Jack? You're mine," the voice whispered, echoing oddly.

"I'm not yours yet! Jane's still alive!"

"Is she?" An oddly-shaped shadow with eyes brighter than the rest tilted its head. "When's the last time you checked?"

Jack froze as fear filled his veins with sharpened ice and then he dropped the poker and ran to Jane's room. She lay there in bed, so very still. Before he could approach, she sighed and turned her head in her sleep and Jack felt his fear flee and he unconsciously relaxed. That's when a hand clamped over his mouth and another wrapped around his waist, pinning one arm, and dragged him backwards. Jack let out a muffled yell even as he mentally cursed Pitch for tricking him like that and his hands clawed at the closest appendage imprisoning him.

"Shh. Don't want to wake her up, now do we?" Pitch cooed as he laid his chin on Jack's shoulder. Jack's reply was incomprehensible as he tried to jerk away. Unfortunately, Pitch's grip was too strong.

"Oh, I have such plans for you," the Boogieman whispered, his breath hot against Jack's ear.

"Hah!"

The blade sung as it swung through the air where Pitch's face had just been, barely missing Jack. Jack stumbled as his center of balance shifted now that he was no longer being held and tried to move away from the blades. Santa Claus or North or whatever he called himself was back, Jack realized right before the shadows wrapped around him. For one horrifying moment, Jack was in free-fall before he suddenly found himself with an aerial view of the hallway as he was suspended from the ceiling by his hands and feet. Pitch was right there, in a corner where wall met ceiling like some sort of giant spider who'd caught Jack in his web.

"Now that you're out of the way of that buffoon and his swords, I can take care of business," Pitch purred as he trailed fingers against Jack's cheek. Jack jerked his face away and tried calling out a warning to the large spirit below, but it felt like his lips had been sewn shut with spider silk. He could only watch helplessly as Pitch and his long limbs scuttled down the wall and towards North.

* * *

North's belly was twisting nauseously and had been since he'd gone back up the chimney. He almost dismissed it as a result of eating too many imperfectly-cooked cookies, except it felt far too much like his intuition did. Trying to ignore it, he cast a spell that would tell him where he still needed to visit and almost cursed when the house he'd just left came up immediately. Between the note and the snare and the cookies and Jack, he had forgotten to leave the presents! Perhaps if he did a few other houses first, give Jack a chance to fall back asleep so he didn't run into the boy a second time? Then the clouds cleared enough for a band of moonlight to stream down on the Overland house. North sighed. It seemed everything was conspiring to get him to go back right this instant and, quite frankly, if that wasn't a sign, North didn't know what was. So went he did.

The house was saturated in shadows that seemed to swell and ebb with every step North took. He had quickly pulled out both of his swords at the unnatural sight and wished he hadn't left the sword-relic given to him by the Man in the Moon back in the vault of the workshop. What were they doing here so soon after he'd left previously, and why were there so many of them? North had never seen shadows laid out so thickly outside of his battles with Pitch. The hallway leading back to what he assumed were the bedrooms was a black hole, the shadows were so dense, so that was where North went. That's where he found Pitch.

The crafty old shadow disappeared before North's sword could damage him, allowing Jack to stumble free. North had only a moment to feel grateful before the shadows swallowed the boy whole.

"NYET!" North roared as he hit the wall the shadows that had taken the boy once were. He cast about in a circle, trying to find either monster or boy and only looked up when he heard a soft skittering sound. Good thing he did because it allowed him to bring up a sword in time to block Pitch's blade. Beyond Pitch on the ceiling, barely visible amid the shadows holding him captive, was the boy, but North had no time to rescue him. The monster before him had the memories of a general buried somewhere inside and it showed in the way he handled fighting in the close space, slipping through shadows whenever it seemed North had him pinned. North himself wasn't fairing well. The hallway was far too narrow for his preferred fighting style and far too often North found himself crashing into the walls. As it was, he was a second too slow on one swing and found himself crashing through a door into a ladies bedroom.

"Sorry," North muttered at the elderly lady in bed, who had sat upright in alarm, before he rejoined the fight with a war cry. He managed a bit longer before a lucky shot on Pitch's part sent North sprawling on his back, one sword spinning out of his hand. He brought up the other one and blocked the first blow, but Pitch twisted his blade, forcing North's out of its protective position and then out of North's hand. Before Pitch could land his final blow, the old woman was there.

"No!" North cried out in alarm before he realized Pitch had pulled his blow. North could only blink in surprise as the woman, dressed only in her nightgown, held up a hand, started glowing a faint silver, and forced Pitch back.

"Jack will not leave here tonight nor any other night without my permission. And you! Begone, foul creature! You were not invited."

Pitch drew back with a hiss before standing tall and regal.

"Very well. I will leave for now, but you're days are numbered and once you are gone, I will take what is mine." Then Pitch and his Fearlings left.

"Whoa!" Jack cried out as he suddenly fell from the ceiling. He let out a pained noise followed by a rather breathless laugh before he got up and moved to the woman, who had sunk to the floor in a coughing fit.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, imp. What about you? He didn't harm you, did he? And the binding? Did I make too tight?"

"No, the binding's fine. I wasn't planning on leaving tonight anyway and I know you'll give me permission to leave if I want. As for Pitch, aside from being really creepy, he didn't do anything."

North, who had fetched and sheathed his swords while listening in, turned and gave a polite cough.

"Oh! Jane, this is Nicholas St. North. He's Santa Claus. North, this is my little sister, Jane," Jack introduced the two. North was once again taken by surprise.

"You have... aged prematurely?"

"Oh, no! I am quite old, actually," Jane replied with a raspy laugh. "The imp here is the oddity."

"I thought you left," Jack added, "Why did you come back?"

"Forgot to leave present," North admitted, "And I am thinking there is much you need to be explaining."

* * *

Notes: For everyone wondering why North doesn't have white hair, I'm going to blame Essie and her story _In The Silence_. In one of her many fascinating author's notes, she actually does a time-line comparison between the movie and the books and reaches a very interesting conclusion. You see, the books take place a few decades before trains were invented. Trains, if you ignore the wooden, horse-pulled tramways invented in the 14th century, were invented in the early 1800s, with the first steam engine being created in 1803 and regularly moving passengers and freight by 1825. The latest a "few decades" can be is then around 1790, with the earliest possible being around 1720 – less than a century before the steam engine was created.

No one, including North, knows his age in the books but he's described as being young but old enough to grow a proper beard, hinting he's probably in his twenties. That would thus put North's date of birth anywhere between the 1690s to 1770. Yes, that means it's very likely Jack is the same age or older than North. Considering Santa wasn't described as old (or having a reindeer-pulled sleigh) until the 1820s, a good fifty years after the date I gave you last chapter, I think I can get away with using a younger version North.


	12. Chapter 12: Helping Hands

No warnings this chapter.

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_**Chapter 12: Helping Hands**_

North knew quite well that he was childish in many ways. It was what allowed him to view things with such wonder. But despite the many wondrous things he'd seen or imagined into being since he'd first met the wizard Ombric, North had never heard of, much less seen, a human boy who didn't age at all before now. More startling was finding out Jackson Overland and Jack Frost were one and the same. North had apparently kept his word to Mother Nature to find Jack before Christmas after all. A quick look at the lists after North finished his rounds confirmed it. Every scroll the name Jack Frost was missing from, Jackson Overland was there, usually on the Naughty List for some prank or another, although he did sometimes manage to make the Nice List. The one year North had found the faded name for Jack Frost, Jackson Overland was also listed in the odd and barely legible script and, when on the page together, both names tried to merge in a way that made North's eyes hurt.

It was all suddenly clear why the elemental spirits hadn't been able to find their missing Spirit of Winter. They were looking for a winter spirit, not a human boy who didn't age. The human form Jack was trapped in prevented him from connecting with the Wind and he and Jane had been trying and failing to communicate with any other spirit they encountered for years with no success. That last bit made North frown. Were the Spirits, North included, so detached as to ignore a human who believed and obviously required help? The answer, sadly, was yes. North had practically been ordered by Manny to return when North had ignored his own gut and feelings of guilt, and even then he'd come close to disobeying. Who knows what would have happened if North hadn't gone back and intervened when he did? Worse, it was obviously difficult for a human in need to actually contact the spirits they did know about. North made a mental note to make sure his own growing legend included a surefire way to contact 'Santa Claus'. Letters, perhaps?

And none of that had anything to do with the current dilemma. Jackson Overland couldn't turn back into Jack Frost until Jane Overland died, but once she did die, the oath binding the two of them would revert to Pitch as per the deal that was made and the Spirit of Winter would become the Nightmare King's slave. Jane Overland, to her credit, was willing to die for her brother, but only if her death would free Jack of all debts and oaths. With no hope of that happening, she had managed to stubbornly cling to life in spite of age and illness. She had also, unlike Jack, taken it quite calmly when North explained he needed to finish his rounds, but that he would be back Christmas Day, hopefully with someone who could help.

"Merry Christmas, North!" Mother Nature sang out as she crossed the workshop's threshold, at least one Wind kicking up a little breeze around her as it played with her swirling skirts and infinitely long hair.

"Welcome!" North shouted back, extending his arms in greeting.

"Did you do it, North? You said you'd find him by today," she asked, practically bouncing. North let his face set in a serious expression.

"I did! But you will not like this. If you would follow me? We will take snow globe."

"Where are we going?"

"New England."

Mother Nature had a worried look now as she drifted after North to the room where he kept the regular snow globes. From there, it was a simple portal ride to the Overland house, where Jack and Jane were waiting, seated in the living room. Both startled and then stood at the appearance of the two spirits.

"See, I am returning as I said!" North exclaimed before performing introductions. "This is Mother Nature! My lady, these are Jane and Jackson Overland and Jack is the older of the two."

* * *

Jane had been startled by the hole appearing out of thin air and had already moved to stand when two people strode through the opening before it shut. North, after listening to their quick explanation, had left last night with the promise to return after he finished his rounds. When morning came with no sight of him, she and Jack had worried he'd broken his promise, so to see him now was rather heart-warming. He had come through and apparently brought help with him.

The lady, Mother Nature as introduced by North, was beautiful with a long face and dark hair and a dress as green as a living thing and yet, for some reason, she frightened Jane. Perhaps it was the way her dress and hair curled away and disappeared like mist on the edges, if edges they were, and the distant look on her face as if she wasn't just here, but everywhere all at once and just making the effort to be seen in this particular room. After all, if the stories were true, this spirit was the spirit of the entire world and focusing on a tiny pinprick of space when one was used to keeping track of the entire planet had to take some sort of effort. Mother Nature studied Jack intently, face neither cruel nor welcoming but rather neutral.

"You are my missing Winter Spirit. I and my people have been searching for you."

"Well, that's good to hear," Jack stated. "We've been trying to gain their attention, but haven't had much luck. The winds haven't even noticed me since I ended up human again."

"Ah. Let me take a look and see why that might be, because your bond with the North Wind should not be so easily blocked. ...what is this?"

A scowl formed on the lady's lovely face as she suddenly grabbed at Jack and just as quickly pulled her hand back, fingers snarled in fine threads. Jack winced and Jane could not only see the way the threads ran through and around Jack, she could see how the silver one ran to her own left hand and feel it run all the way to her heart as it was tugged, making her gasp. Then the lady was bearing down on her like a storm, hair a dark cloud and Jane could swear she saw lightning flash. She was so surprised, she ended up standing her ground instead of fleeing, not unlike an alarmed deer.

"You dared to bind him?!" Mother Nature demanded, voice rolling like thunder. Jane's surprise and fear melted suddenly into anger, ill-advised considering she was facing the representation of the entire world. But how dare she make assumptions!

"I was a child when I saw my older brother die right in front of me! And I was still a child, young and foolish, when a dark spirit offered to bring him back. By the time I was aware of the trap, it was far too late," Jane snapped back, not caring that the spirit in front of her could easily destroy her and perhaps even desired to, if the way she was hissing and rattling like a snake was any clue.

"And I agreed to it as well," Jack pointed out, eyes narrowed. Mother Nature rounded on him.

"Why did you do that, you foolish thing?!"

"I died protecting my little sister before I ever got chosen to be your Winter Spirit or whatever. Choosing to come back to life to protect her from the Boogieman was easy in comparison."

It hadn't happened exactly like that, Jane knew, but that didn't change the fact that Jack had told her long ago that even knowing what he did now, he would have willingly walked into the trap he'd unknowingly walked into if it meant protecting her. He was protecting her even now and Jane was grateful for it, especially because she was feeling short of breath once more. Dear Lord, the woman was _terrifying_! At least, she had been, because now she was looking taken aback and somewhat lost, not unlike a puppy.

"The Boogieman?"

"Who did you think was responsible for this mess?" Jack asked before pointing out, "The black threads are his."

"I thought... I can sense MiM gave her power. I assumed the black was her corruption of that power, but if Pitch Black is indeed involved... But of course he is. This has the fingerprints of the monster wearing my father's face all over it. Using your love against you." Mother nature shuddered as if she was suppressing a sob and North put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

"Wait. Father?" Jack asked before Jane could find the breath to. Mother Nature's sigh was a cold breeze before she took a seat and gestured for them to do so as well. Once everyone was seated, she explained.

"I wasn't always Mother Nature. No spirit starts out as a spirit. There are things that are similar that do start out that way, sprites, but they tend to be lesser, neither powerful nor very intelligent. Then there are the legendary creatures, who are more powerful than the sprites and as intelligent as humans – sometimes more so – but still lesser compared to a true spirit. Most of them make deals with the spirits for protection in exchange for goods or services. Both the yeti, who are a tribe of legendary creatures, and a tribe of elves, who are sprites, have such a deal with North here. I have dozens more of each type under my own banner, as well as several elemental and seasonal spirits who in turn have their own protectorates."

"So... you're like a queen and the spirits under you are like lords and all of you have groups you protect in particular?" Jack asked, making sure that was indeed the concept Mother Nature was trying to explain.

"In essence, yes. It is actually a bit more complicated than that, but the original kings and lords built their hierarchies based upon the ones in the spirit world. And each planet capable of intelligent life has a spirit world. I actually met numerous Mother and Father Natures long before I became one for this world. People used to travel the stars quite easily, you see, and it was a true Golden Age, ruled over by the Constellations, beings of great power who used their power for the good of all. It was peaceful, or it would have been had the Constellations not feared Fear itself.

"You can't kill Fear, and they knew that, so they chose to trap it and lock it away instead. The stars begged them not to because Fear is necessary. It teaches caution, courage, ambition, and even strength in adversity. You cannot have courage if you do not feel fear. You cannot strive to succeed if you do not know the fear of failure. You cannot learn to overcome the worst life has to offer if you do not already know how to overcome fear. The Constellations didn't want to hear that. They only saw darkness and sought to drive it out of their golden era. So they gathered up all the small shadows and all the large ones with the help of the greatest hero of the age, the Golden General himself, Kozmotis Pitchiner. He did not see the wrong it, because he thought he was protecting everyone, but especially his daughter. And once all of Fear was locked away, he offered to guard the prison so that Fear couldn't escape.

"But shadows locked together are far darker and far more powerful than they are individually and true evil was spawned as a result. They used the General's love against him and made him think that his daughter – that I – was locked in with them and in danger as a result. No one knows how long they tortured him with the sound of the voice of my child-self before he gave in. But he did give in and the shadows took him. I'm not certain if what remains is my father at all, really. If he fused with them, or if the shadows ripped him out and replaced everything with themselves and use the remains as a puppet, or, worse, if there's nothing of him left at all except for a corrupted image used to strike fear in the people who once knew him. What I do know is what is there is evil. The shadows are no longer content to stop at natural fear, the kind that is good and useful. They are voracious and destroyed much simply because of the debilitating fear it caused. There are very few worlds capable of supporting life now, and far fewer stars."

"What stopped him? Why hasn't he tried destroying our world?" Jane asked, feeling heartsick and not a little frightened.

"Oh, he has tried. But here is where the last stand of the Constellations took place – and ended. He killed the Tsar and Tsarina Lunanoff, but not their son, before their loyal guard performed a feat that managed to imprison Pitch for millennia. It gave the child, the last remaining Constellation, time to grow up and grow into his power. Time to prepare for the eventual return of Fear's Master. And return he did. Both monster and guard were weakened from their time in imprisonment, having been frozen in a stalemate for so long. The monster, Pitch Black, has been trying to regain his powers ever since, even as we struggle to make sure he does not. I not only keep an eye on things in my own realm, but the last Constellation, the Man in the Moon, has arranged for the Guardians as well."

"Guardians?" Jack asked, perking up.

"I am Guardian!" North announced cheerfully, "Guardian of Wonder!"

"There is also E. Aster Bunnymund, Spirit of Easter and Guardian of Hope, Queen Toothiana of the Tooth Fairies and Guardian of Memory, and Sanderson ManSnoozie, aka the Sandman and Guardian of Dreams," Mother Nature added.

"Yes, yes," North agreed, "and we are helped by others as well, many of whom live in Santoff Claussen. He sees us as threat, so usually goes after us first. Is surprise he went after you."

"And rather cunning of him as well. Cold and dark are rather potent together," Mother Nature finished with a grimace.

"So what do we do?" Jane asked. "My life is all that is keeping Jack out of his hands, and I am sick and mortal and don't have much time left."

"Jane!"

"No, Jack, it's true and we have to face it if we're going to do anything about it."

"Any ideas?" North asked Mother Nature.

She sighed before saying, "That old wizard who mentored you might have something in that library of his. It's probably the safest place for these two in the meantime as well, as fortified against Pitch as it is. I shall ask around with my people, see if any of them know any way to break ill-made binding oaths and ways to prolong human life." With that, she slid away like a fine mist, making Jane blink in surprise.

"So then it is settled! We are off to Santoff Claussen!"

With that, North proceeded to sweep Jane off her feet and into his arms, making her squeak in surprise even as a blush rose on her cheeks. If she were quite honest with herself, Jane had always had a, well, a _thing_ for big, tall, strong men with a wild streak and Nicholas St. North was exactly her type, spirit or no. Oh, if only she wasn't a decrepit old hag! As it was, Jane fully intended to enjoy the view and, since it was being so temptingly offered, coping a feel as well. And my, if he didn't have some nice firm muscles hidden under that coat! She could feel the muscles in his shoulders and arms bunch and relax under her grip as he moved.

Jane felt a girlish giggle bubble up and barely managed to turn it into a coughing fit before she embarrassed herself. This, in turn, caused North to look at her in concern.

"Miss Jane, are you up for trip? Is nasty cough and you are looking very flushed."

"Oh! No, I'll be alright, dear," Jane hurriedly tried to reassure him just before her cough really came back. Once it was over, she saw North giving her a worried look and Jack giving her a very knowing one. Considering Jack, by necessity, had been the one to vet any man trying to become Jane's beau after they passed her own gauntlet, Jack knew precisely what Jane's type was and was visibly amused by Jane's poorly hidden attraction.

"Oh, hush, imp!"

"I didn't say anything," Jack replied innocently, smile almost too sharp to pull off the accompanying angelic expression.

"Humph."

North looked at them in confusion before apparently deciding it was a family thing and best ignored. He easily shifted Jane's weight, making her blush harder, and pulled out of one his pockets a snow globe of all things.

"What's that going to do?" Jack asked with a slight frown.

"Will create portal! We will stop by workshop first. Is also called Santoff Claussen so if anyone tries to use snow globes that is not me, they end up facing army of yeti! Snow globe permanently set to Santoff Claussen that we need to get to is in vault. Come! We shall go!"

"Wait, what about our stuff?"

"Bah, I will send yeti later to pack and move. Much easier," North replied before shaking the snow globe and calling out, "Workshop!" Then he tossed the snow globe which burst into that strange and colorful hole in the air Jane had seen previously.

North stepped through carrying Jane, who felt a horribly disorienting twisting sensation that left her feeling slightly nauseous. Jack, however, seemed perfectly fine and was quickly absorbed in their new surroundings, head turning this way and that and neck craning in different angles to see everything in all it's impossibility. Huge, hairy creatures were everywhere, bustling about efficiently as they made things and cleaned things and packed things. Underfoot, small little creatures that reminded Jane of Oswald with a pang of melancholy got in the way and made little messes and appeared to be having a grand time with the toys that flew or made noises or didn't seem to have any purpose at all except to be cuddled, although a few of the creatures appeared to be trying to lead a charge while on rocking horseback. She found herself giggling despite herself, only to be surprised when North boomed with laughter that shook his whole frame and her along with it.

"My workshop," he said with pride, "Is wonderful, is it not? And you should laugh more, Miss Jane. Is lovely sound."

"Oh, um... heehee!" Jane managed even as she tried fanning her suddenly very hot face. This was not helped by the fact he didn't set her down once as he strode with confidence through the bustling area and through doors that magically parted at his approach, leading to a room of crystal and ice and rainbows and light. She realized this must be the vault when North gently set her down and reverently picked up a tiny snow globe that depicted a tree with windows and a door.

"Here we are. Keep close, you two. This portal will not stay open for long. Keeps unwanted passengers out. Take step on three."

Jane nodded and took North's strong arm in her own frail one and felt Jack move to her other side. He offered his arm and a smile. Jane accepted both, happily supported on both sides. North tossed the trinket even as he counted, "One. Two. Three!" The portal blossomed on three and they all stepped in unison as the portal swiftly closed behind them.

Hah! Jane's a surprisingly innocent naughty old woman.

It took me awhile to get into the flow for this chapter. It doesn't help that my outline for this part is rather vague. Finding an awesome dub-step violin song to write to helped immensely. I'm odd like that. The lyrics don't matter to me (and I've actually written to songs whose lyrics don't match what I'm writing in the least). It's the emotions it evokes and the intensity and the tempo. It's also why I don't do like some authors and create a soundtrack to accompany my stories. After all, just because I listened to something while writing it doesn't necessarily mean it will actually match up with what you're reading in any way, shape, or form.

After this point, I'm going to be involving a few more book characters in some capacity. There's definitely going to be some cameos and possibly more, depending on the characters.

Avid readers will probably notice I'm being influenced not just by Essie's work, but also by Alaia Skyhawk's _Secret of Frost and Moon_ and even a little by Shimmer712's _Secrets Hidden in The Snow_. On that note, if you haven't already, you should read them. They're quite good.


	13. Chapter 13: Hope Gained and Resentmen

Long chapter, and discussions of enslavement. Which really should have been warned about as early as chapter one. Oops.

* * *

**_Chapter 13: Hope Gained and Resentment Earned_**

Jack hadn't been impressed by the snow globe in the vault. The snow globe had been so small and the tiny tree had been so... twee, it had reminded Jack more of a cheap knickknack than an object of power. As a result, while he wasn't sure what to expect when he stepped through the portal, it admittedly hadn't been much. That quickly vanished in the reality of the place. The actual tree was huge, towering over the village nestled in what Jack would later learn was a meteorite crater. And if the tree was big, the mountains surrounding the village were even larger. They easily dwarfed any mountains Jack had ever seen before. The cobblestone road the snow globe had set them on ended in an impenetrable forest just behind them and led to the tree and village, where strange noises and the laughter of children could be heard in the near distance.

"Santoff Claussen," North stated with pride as he looked at the village. "I came here first as a regular man, well, as regular a man as a King of Thieves can be. I had intended to rob the place of its riches but found instead riches that could never be stolen and worth more to me than all the gold and jewels of Europe. I have claimed it as home ever since, even now that I live here no longer."

"It's lovely," Jane replied. Jack nodded in agreement, a part of him itching to explore the place from the frosted roots of the trees to the tips of the snow-covered mountains. North drew in a deep breath and let out a booming laugh before easily swinging Jane up into his arms.

"Come! I must introduce you to everyone, but especially Katherine and Ombric."

Katherine, who was a girl dressed in a sunny yellow, met them at the door to the tree, Big Root, waving and calling out North's name and she smiled and greeted Jack and Jane in a very friendly manner.

"Hello! I'm Katherine and this Kailash." A goose large enough to ride honked and ducked her head in greeting, "She says hello."

"It's very nice to meet you both," Jane replied, nodding her head even as she clung to North's arm and looked somewhat faint just from the short walk from where North had set her down.

"I was expecting you back earlier, North. You do so love to see the children's faces when they open their presents. As it was, they couldn't wait and there's none left to be opened except for the ones we got you."

"Ah, pardon, sestrenka, but as you can see I met some very interesting people."

"Hello! I'm Jack and this is my little sister, Jane."

Katherine blinked before saying brightly, "You must have quite the story to tell! Will you share it with me?"

"Katherine is our storyteller and I think it might be best if she did know your story. We must tell it to Ombric anyway and this way Katherine can record it and we can refer to book instead of bothering you for dark details."

"Dark details?" Katherine asked. North's expression grew serious.

"Story involves Pitch."

Jack and Jane both reacted in surprise when Katherine suddenly looked like a serious young woman instead of the girl she'd previously appeared as. She nodded solemnly and stated, "This way," before leading them inside the tree and down a hall to a grand library filled with books, owls, comfy chairs, tables with even more books, and a single man who looked so much like a wizard Jack would be surprised if he wasn't one. He looked up at them in surprise and delight and quickly waved them in, much to the sleepy irritation of book he'd been perusing.

"Oh, do come in and have a seat! Hot cocoa? I practically invented it, you know. Well, the sweetened version, which will be quite popular in the future. The natives over in America were the ones to get the idea to drink it in the first place, although their version is quite spicy. Delicious, really, but gave me heartburn something awful, it did."

Confused and somewhat overwhelmed by the man's hospitality, Jack took one of the chairs – which were as comfy as they looked – and noted the others doing the same. Once introductions were finished – the book who flapped its pages like butterfly wings and who fell asleep soon afterward, was named Mr. Qwerty, apparently – and refreshments served, the man who was indeed a wizard and named Ombric gave them a serious look.

"Now then, while I enjoy good company, I have a feeling you're not here just to visit."

"No, we're not," Jane said. "We're here because we need to find a way to free Jack."

"We're here because you're dying," Jack countered with a frown at his sister.

"Which wouldn't be an issue if you weren't bound to me," Jane pointed out.

"If you think I'm just going to let you die-"

"Now, now. Go back a bit, because you're confusing me. Jack, you are bound to Jane?"

"Yes," Jack replied petulantly, giving Jane an unhappy look.

"For how long have you been bound to her?"

Jack didn't answer, but Jane turned away from his glare with a soft sigh and said, "Since I was little girl. The number of years I'd lived hadn't even reached double digits when it happened."

"And you want to undo the binding between you two?"

"Yes, so Jack will be safe once I die," Jane agreed.

"You are a witch, are you not? I can feel your power. Why don't you use your power to break the binding? It is well within your capability. All you have to do is wish it gone," Ombric stated. Jane looked surprised before a sad look crossed her face and she looked down at the mug she held on her lap.

"I would, but I'm afraid the binding would then revert to Pitch, as it will when I die."

Katherine gasped from where she was recording everything in a book and Mr. Qwerty jerked awake, pages fluttering in alarm. Ombric's bushy eyebrows rose and twitched like living things. It looked not unlike a pair of extremely fuzzy caterpillars were attempting to dance or perhaps fight, Jack thought with amusement. Really, he was starting to find everyone's response to his and Jane's predicament hilarious. He wondered what it said about him that his first reaction to something sad or frightening or horrifying was immediately finding something humorous in the situation. Oh well, better to laugh than to cry, although he worried that if he started laughing he might not be able to stop.

"I see," Ombric finally replied. "That makes it much more complicated. North, what do you think?"

"I am thinking that stabilizing Miss Jane's health should be first, then worrying about how to break bindings."

"Yes, a very good plan, I think. I should have all the healing herbs and potions we should need and Katherine can help me make more in a jiffy. As for the bindings, do you think we'll need to involve Bunnymund? No, probably best not to. I never know which version I'm going to meet and he might not know anything pertinent at all."

"Nightlight might know something about bindings," Katherine offered from her seat.

"Very possible! And what a very good idea, my dear! He did bind Pitch for a time, after all."

"Um, wait? Who are Bunnymund and Nightlight? And what did you mean, 'which version'?" Jack asked, eyebrows rising.

"Ah, well, you see E. Aster Bunnymund is the Easter Bunny and Guardian of Hope and he doesn't view time as a line, or even a circle, really. Perhaps egg-shaped, if anything. Lots of eggs on the brain, that one, and, depending on where in his personal time-line you manage to meet him and if he's recently consumed chocolate or going through a phase where he tries giving it up, you might end up meeting someone brash and easily irritable with a rather shoddy idea of what interpersonal relationships consist of," Ombric explained.

"Or you might meet someone sweet and giving with a zillion years of experience and even less idea of how to interact with regular people," Katherine added cheekily, "but either way, he's really tall and smart and an excellent person to have in a fight. He seems to focus more on chocolate, eggs, and machines than magic, however."

"Tall? Like how tall?"

"Oh, seven feet, at least."

"Wow. No wonder the snares never worked," Jack muttered, apparently not low enough because the people around him laughed.

"They won't now either, even if you do make them bigger. If younger Bunnymund encountered the first snare, he'll have been letting his older and wilier self deal with you and your traps, just in case you ever caught a glimpse or became creative. That's what he does with the entirety of Santoff Claussen and for precisely that reason," Ombric admitted with a chuckle. "To be fair, his older self finds the traps amusing and he sometimes sends his younger self out when he sees a particularly good one if he thinks he needs to learn a lesson."

Jack blinked and pursed his lips for a second while he tried wrapping his head around the idea of someone teaching themselves a lesson. Jane's laughter let him know she was amused by the concept.

"As for Nightlight... he's a star-child. Well, at least we _think_ he is," Katherine explained. "He's literally made of light and his powers allow him to directly confront Pitch's dark, although, unfortunately, Pitch has developed countermeasures against that. Still, he did successfully bind Pitch for quite some time. Millennia, really."

"Huh. Okay."

* * *

"My dear, if you are finished with your cocoa and cookies, I'd like to take a look at you," Ombric suddenly stated, breaking the brief contemplative silence that had fallen on the group.

"Oh, yes. Go right ahead."

"Good, if you'll follow me. Katherine, be a dear and introduce Jack to the villagers, if you would. Miss Jane's introduction can wait until after she's feeling better."

"Yes, Ombric," Katherine agreed as she set aside the book she'd been writing in. Then she appeared the girl again instead of the young lady as she tugged excitably on Jack's arm, saying, "Come, you must meet all of the Williams!" and left North with Mr. Qwerty as Ombric escorted Jane from the library. Jane followed Ombric into what wasn't so much a room just off the library as an alcove filled with a surprisingly comfortable cot that Ombric had her sit on, a table, and shelves filled with brightly-colored liquids and medical oddities.

"Alright, let's take a listen," Ombric said as he pulled a strange device from out of his beard. It seemed to consist of some flexible material that ended in a rounded piece of metal on one end before trailing up and forking into the strange-looking ends that Ombric placed in his ears. "This stethoscope should tell me a few things." He then proceeded to place the round metal end against Jane's forehead.

"Mm. Your brain sounds quite healthy. Lots of thoughts and curiosity."

Jane couldn't help but giggle out loud at that but it quickly devolved into a cough.

"Oh, that sounds nasty. Let me see what I have for that," Ombric said, turning toward a set of shelves covered in bottles and vials. "Here. Try this one."

Jane took the vial of bright yellow liquid and swallowed it and was surprised when the taste of summer and sunshine burst on her tongue. Ombric saw her expression and smiled.

"Can't abide nasty medicine myself," he confessed, "nor does any child I know, so I figured out a way to make them taste good. That way everyone's happy. How's the cough?"

Jane cleared her throat and then smiled.

"It's gone!"

"Good! Now to see if anything else is ailing you."

* * *

It was early evening and Jane was asleep. Jack should have been as well, but he felt far too restless for something as mundane as sleep. Instead, he curled up in the lovely, wide, curved window sill in their room and was taking turns looking out the window and watching Jane sleep. He had been delighting in how easy her breathing was and how healthy Jack felt – proof she was doing better – when a soft glow came from the window. Jack turned toward it curiously, half-way expecting moonbeams or starlight or a cloud of lightning bugs and fireflies, so magical was this place. What he hadn't expected was a gently glowing face hanging upside-down to be peering in the window. Jack startled and so did the face, which quickly pulled up and away, taking its glow with it.

"Wait!" Jack called out as he flung open the window. Whatever it was, sprite or spirit or legendary creature, it – no, _he_ - paused at Jack's shout. It was a boy, or something shaped like one, but he looked like he was made out of light. Even his clothing glowed, a dimmer light compared to his skin and hair except where pinpricks shone through and formed a pattern of constellations Jack had never seen before. Jack immediately suspected he knew who this was, although he had to admit he'd been expecting someone older. Perhaps he was like Jack and didn't age?

"Hello. I'm Jack."

There was a pause and then, _I'm Nightlight. Pleasure to meet you._ It was a soft murmur in Jack's brain, like a thought only it was foreign to Jack's mind, although it confirmed Jack's suspicions.

"Is that how you talk? Is it the only way you can talk?"

The boy shook his head and said, "No." His voice echoed like a rumble in ancient halls hewn out of the depths of a mountain and bubbled like light reflecting on a swift-running stream and Jack suspected – once he'd recovered – that if Nightlight had gone beyond the single syllable, Jack would've been too lost in the sound of his voice to have properly registered what had been said.

Feeling embarrassed and not entirely sure why, Jack replied, "Oh, good. Uh, whatever way's best for you then." Nightlight gave Jack a wicked grin before reaching out to tug on his arm.

_Come play!_

"Play what?" Jack asked. Nightlight paused before asking, _Can you fly?_

"I used to be able to, but I can't right now. That's part of why I'm here, to see if Ombric and North can fix that."

_Hopefully they can fix that soon. It would be nice to have someone to play hide-and-seek in the clouds and chase moonbeams with._

"Yeah, that does sound like fun," Jack agreed.

_Why do you look human when you're like me?_

"I don't know if you can see it, but I have these oaths binding me."

Nightlight frown in concentration as he looked at Jack. _I see._ He reached out and Jack recoiled as he was suddenly overwhelmed with pain until Nightlight swiftly drew back.

_Sorry. Sorry. Shadows shrink from my light, but shrinking isn't good when you're tangled in them._

"Yeah, you got that right. Just... don't do that again, ok?" Jack suggested even as the tiny hope Nightlight might know what do fizzled out of existence.

_Agreed._ Then Nightlight literally brightened as an idea struck him. _I know what we can do! We can help the children escape!_

"Escape?!" Jack replied, alarmed at the idea of children in trouble. "Escape from what?"

_Bedtime._

* * *

It was dark in the forest, despite the various lights carried by the hunters. They paused at the sound of a bear snuffling in the distance and a few moved to check it out. The rest stayed on course, determined not to be distracted from their quest. They walked right over the well-constructed wood covering of the pit, so carefully covered it was with dried leaves and snow. Underneath, giggles were carefully muffled and hushed until the children's parents had left the area and gave no sign of returning just yet. Then the children claimed their coats from the pile they'd placed on Nightlight to hide his tell-tale glow and looked at the new boy expectantly, as his ideas had worked very well thus far.

"What now, Jack?" the boy called Fog asked.

"Now we hide in the last place they'll look for us."

"Where's that?" one of the Williams asked.

"Why, in our bedrooms of course!"

"But I don't want to hide in my bedroom," William the Absolute Youngest complained.

"That's why we're hiding in each other's bedrooms," Jack replied glibly. "The Williams will hide in Petter, Sascha, Fog, and Katherine's bedrooms while Petter, Sascha, Fog, and Katherine hide in the Williams' bedrooms and Nightlight and I act as distractions and bait."

There were looks and nods exchanged and agreements that was a pretty good idea.

"Be careful, you two," Katherine, looking like a child once more, advised before she joined the others in slipping back unnoticed into the village and into each other's beds.

_Distraction?_

"Yeah. Come on. I have an idea."

* * *

It was so late it was early, the edge of sky lightening in preparation for dawn, when the wearied parents, covered in mud, leaves, and feathers of all things, trudged into the village with the only two they'd managed to capture and even then just barely and recently. Neither Jack nor Nightlight looked ashamed for their actions and instead appeared rather joyful with their situation as they kept sending each other little smirks and grins as they were marched into the village.

"Jack!"

"Oof," Jack replied as Jane bowled him over in a hug.

"Oh, Jack, I woke up and you were gone, but it didn't feel like you were in trouble and what _were_ you doing?" Jane babbled as she brushed small amounts of stray mud, leaves, and feathers from his clothes and hair.

"Helping the kids escape bedtime. It was fun!" It really was. Jack couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun. Even his kitchen-sneaking game couldn't compare to having actual playmates, and he felt like something important, something that had been missing for far too long, was suddenly back and he was whole once more.

Ombric looked unimpressed, raising his bushy eyebrows as he asked, "And where exactly are the children you rapscallions are hiding?"

Jack gave a nonchalant shrug and said, "By now? They're probably asleep in bed."

A quick search proved this to be true, the children all asleep in beds that weren't theirs. Upon being roused to be properly put to bed, they announced that they'd gotten plenty of sleep, thank you, and were ready for a new day to begin, much to their exhausted parents' dismay.

* * *

Jane was looking much plumper and prettier these days, and loved spending her time experimenting in Big Root's kitchen, particularly with the chocolate and cocoa powder. Everyone loved the results and also asked for repeats of particular favorites. Ombric was debating having Big Root make Jack and Jane permanent rooms or if he should ask if they'd like a house in the village first when Jane approached him and said, "We can't stay."

"What?! But, my dear-"

"It's been lovely and I wish we could stay, really, I do, and I'm quite grateful for you healing my sickness, but it's only February and Jack's already sleeping all day."

"Well, he does tend to stay up late, what with the whole bedtime war," Ombric pointed out.

"It's also cooler at night. Winter doesn't say long here, does it?"

"Well, no," Ombric agreed, confused by the change in conversation, "It's a bit of a result of the barriers and being half-a-step off from the rest of the world. That's not a bad thing, though. In addition to helping protect us from Pitch, it lets in just enough winter to enjoy without it overstaying its welcome."

"That's it, though. Jack _is_ Winter and he's about to overstay his welcome. That's when he sleeps and he won't wake up again, not until it's cold enough for Winter once more. And your ice box is far too small for a person to live in."

Ombric opened his mouth and then closed it because he'd never had someone tell him his ice box was too small for someone to live in before and it took a moment for him to fully comprehend why it was an issue.

"I can make it bigger?" he offered. Jane shook her head.

"It's bad enough that I've forced him to stay put in one small room for half-a-year every year since the binding. Asking him to do so for longer than that, just so we can stay here, is cruel. He's never liked being in enclosed spaces for long, even before he died. Surely you've noticed he spends most of his time outside?"

Ombric winced and nodded. The boy was a free spirit, and Ombric could see hints of the magic hidden inside as he romped and played with the children of Santoff Claussen. He was an odd creature, Jack, so young at heart and yet not nearly as young as he appeared. Ombric had first thought him like Nightlight – an eternal child. But Nightlight was a star-child or something similar enough to make no difference and stars age differently than humans. Nightlight only seemed like an eternal child because he aged so slowly; he wouldn't truly be an adult until long after life had ceased to exist on Earth. Stars, after all, have an awful lot to learn before they grow up.

Jack was actually more like Katherine, who was never quite certain if she was a child or an adult now and often ended up shifting between both unless she didn't think about it, at which point she'd end up somewhere between the two. It was an odd side-effect of her become a spirit at a young age. Everyone had that sort of confusion once they hit the beginnings of puberty. Katherine's magic was just making it worse, because living spirits – that is, spirits who hadn't died to become what they were – had a degree of control over their age and aging processes. As a result, North and the others were waiting for her to finally figure things out before making her a proper Guardian. She'd already given her oath to the Man in the Moon, after all. All that remained was making it official.

Jack wasn't a living spirit, for all that he was currently alive, and his age didn't shift, at least not physically but mentally... Ombric had often been surprised by the way Jack suddenly shifted gears between adult thoughtfulness and childish glee with ease and without Katherine's confusion or dismay. Unlike the vast majority of people when they were that age, Jack was comfortable in his strange half-state. He was a child that would never grow up and an adult that would never grow old. He demanded the respect due an adult and had the thoughts of one, but he wasn't embarrassed to join the children in their games and even came up with imaginative new ones and instigated old favorites. The children adored him and viewed him as an older brother figure, even Tall William who was taller than Jack.

Jane was right. It would indeed be cruel to make them stay just to shove Jack into a box. It was cruel to imprison Jack at all. They needed to get those bindings off, or at least see about making them less onerous.

"Give me a little bit longer, Miss Jane. I have a few more books to look through and some people I need to consult with. If we haven't gotten anywhere before Spring arrives and Jack starts slipping further, I'll arrange for North to take you both to his Workshop and keep you safe there. Its location in the Arctic should help things marvelously."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly! I'm unmarried! It wouldn't be proper at all for me to move in with Mr. North!"

"Pshaw! I assure you that your reputation will remain as unmarred as it has been with you living here. After all, who would care about you staying some place where both you and Jack can be healthy? And having a handsome young man making sure you take your medicine can only be good for you," Ombric said, giving Jane an knowing wink.

"Oh, you horrid old rascal," Jane exclaimed, hiding her reddening face in her apron. She wasn't truly upset as her laughter soon joined Ombric's. "Oh, I am being a silly thing, aren't I? The idea an old spinster of a crone like me could cause a scandal – why, my pride's running off with me!"

"Oh, I don't know. You might be surprised, my dear. For now, don't worry. We have until Spring."

Jane bit her lip in thought before nodding. "Very well. Until Spring."

* * *

North quickly grew to hate the 'heat sickness' as Jack and Jane called it. Someone as lively as Jack should not look so deathly still, so he'd readily agreed to move the Overlands to the Workshop as mid-March rolled around and Jack started doing poorly in Santoff Claussen, much to the children's dismay and the parent's worried relief. North still wasn't certain how he felt about having his workshop invaded by the two. It was... different from what he was used to. While North was doubling the yeti guards, just in case, fruity and floral soaps suddenly appeared in every single bathroom and elves started appearing in odd places.

Jane's baking was heavenly and North suspected being able to indulge in his obsession for cookies was going to become a bad habit and result in a paunch sooner or later if he wasn't careful. Still, it was wonderful having what he suspected to be the world's best baker living in house. Jack was a bit more of an issue.

The cold weather did the trapped spirit good but Jack, without the easy distraction provided by Nightlight and the children of Santoff Claussen, proved to be easily bored and prone to mischief. This prompted North to try and find various things to keep Jack occupied for at least awhile. Toy testing seemed to last the longest before Jack got bored and wandered off to incite the elves to riot once more, often giving them boosts to get into things they were normally too small to reach, even with their climbing abilities. North put up with it in good humor but privately looked forward to Nightlight's weekly visit where he'd drop off potions for Jane and keep Jack occupied for a few hours. North himself kept in near constant contact with Ombric through a magic mirror.

They were running out of time. Miss Jane was healthy now, yes, but the clock was still ticking and she was still aging. It was only a matter of time until the sand in her hourglass ran out. Jane, the brave woman she was, had accepted that some time ago and would happily leave this world for the next – as soon as her brother was safe. She was an inspiration, really, which is why North was so very frustrated by their lack of progress.

There was tons – literally – of information on magical bindings. Both Mr. Qwerty and Nightlight had been unable to add anything that wasn't already in the pile of books North and Ombric had combed through, looking for an answer. The problem was that they knew exactly what binding had been used and it was impossible for someone to break on the outside. Pitch had been smart enough to invoke an incredibly strong binding that required the consent of all the parties involved and likewise couldn't be fully broken without the consent of all the parties involved. It hadn't even required verbal consent to be set up, just an affirmative action. Jane had readily agreed by giving Pitch the ingredients to the spell that gave Jack the semblance of human life and had even set her terms at that time. They were good terms, considering she'd been a child and hadn't a clue exactly what sort of mess she'd been getting herself into. By making Pitch agree that he couldn't have Jane's mind, body, or soul, she'd ensured Pitch couldn't kill her directly by his own hand, nor corrupt her in any way – such as turning her into a Fearling as he'd threatened – nor control Jack directly through her. The real problem had been when Jack agreed.

Jack had known giving Jane his staff would be a sign he agreed to the binding. He'd been told it would be a binding by Pitch and Jane had explained she was supposed to give his staff to give to Pitch so he could be brought back. The moment he'd let go when they were both holding the staff, he'd agreed though his actions, just as Pitch did by completing the spell to grant Jack's half-life. Worse, Jack hadn't set any terms when he could have and really should have. Jack had until Pitch started uttering the spell to complete his own binding action to set his terms. When Pitch had been gloating and saying what his terms were, Jack could have countered them by pointing out he hadn't yet demanded his own terms and saved himself and Jane quite a bit of heartbreak in the process. To be fair, Jack hadn't known that and he'd fallen for Pitch's lie when Pitch had said it was too late.

Then end result was unfortunate. The binding was designed so it could be partially broken at any time simply by having one party withdraw consent by breaking the terms, with Jane – as the instigator of the binding because she'd been the first to lay down terms – having the most leeway and being able to just walk away without even breaking terms, just a desire to back out and the magic to enforce it. Jack hadn't set any terms, having been tricked out of doing so, and so couldn't break terms to escape the binding, which left Jane and Pitch's terms. Half of those terms were already fulfilled, leaving them even less to work with. Jane had asked for Pitch to make Jack alive, and to keep him that way, but since Jack would have a living human form no matter what they did until his life was no longer connected to Jane's, something that would require Jane's death, that term would hold. Unless Jane broke terms with Pitch, but that defeated the purpose as Pitch's terms with Jack would still be in effect. Those terms hadn't been fulfilled yet, but Pitch had accounted for them as well when he'd arranged for them to never end unless one of them ceased to exist entirely or the Moon fell from the sky. That left the extras Jane had managed to force on her terms with Pitch – that he couldn't harm her personally. Pitch had been careful to stay physically away from her since he'd completed the exchange, making this unlikely, even as he sent his powers and minions out to help shorten the waiting period for his own terms with Jack to be fulfilled.

Jack had cursed long and loud when North and Ombric had explained all of this to him before running off into a snow storm, much to everyone's dismay. Except Jane, who didn't look worried at all.

"Give him some time," she advised, not looking up from the blue and white snowflake quilting project she had started with Jack earlier that day in an effort to keep him occupied. North gave it an hour before he stopped pacing the hallway, pulled on his warmest clothes, and braved the blizzard outside.

"Jack! Jack!" North bellowed before quietly muttering in Russian. The other's preference for blue, white, and brown clothing made him blend far too well with his current surroundings. Worse, it was so cold North was afraid he would freeze and Jack had wandered out wearing considerably less, complete with his utter disregard for proper footwear. North had been debating turning around when a sharp blast of wind caused him to lose his footing and roll into a deep depression. It was calmer in the depression, and warmer out of the wind's chill and in the center, so very close, was Jack.

North felt he could be forgiven for not seeing him earlier. The winter spirit was sitting cross-legged on the snow, eyes closed and face still. His hair was so coated in frost and snow that it looked white and his skin showed all the signs of over exposure, and even the snow and ice on Jack's clothing wasn't melting like it should. It made North wince and want nothing more than to grab the boy and haul him back to Santoff Claussen before frostbite settled in, but something in his belly stopped him. There was power here, of the sort he wasn't used to feeling outside of Mother Nature and her lot.

The storm died quietly around them as North stared at Jack and tried not to shiver. The snow stopped falling, the last flakes settling on the ground, when Jack's eyes snapped open. They were blue, like ice and the shadows of snow, and patterned like snowflakes. Then the blue disappeared as brown crept back into not only his eyes but into his hair, the white melting away in such a way that North wondered if the white had actually been ice and snow at all.

"I did it," he informed North with a tired smile, "It took a blizzard in the Arctic and me being really emotional, but I managed to grab the power I've always felt hiding just under my skin. I've affected the weather, I know I have, but it's so much harder like this. It never stays." Jack's expression was sad now, then horrified.

"God, North, what does it mean that I want to rip this human form off and be done with it? I hate it, I really do! I tried to hint at it early on to Jane, when it first happened and again when I finally felt she was old enough to actually understand. Jackson Overland died in the pond that day. I'm Jack Frost and have been since the Moon chose me. But I have his memories and I have his emotions and damn me, but I love her too much to tell her how much I hate her.

"How wrong is that? That I hate my own sister? But I do hate her, as much as I love her, and I do love her. The very idea of her dying, even though it would free me from this human form, fills me with utter dread. I don't want her to die, North. I think it might be the thing I fear the most. God, if just worrying she will die is doing this to me, how much worse must of it have been for her? I died in front of her. If she was feeling worse than this, no wonder she did what she did."

"Jack," North said, leaning forward to take the other's thin shoulders in his hands, a gesture to show his support and understanding, "Is understandable. You were and still are something so much more than this form before me, so very much more, and she took it from you and enslaved you. She did not mean to do so, but she did and your resentment is natural and to be expected. I admit I am surprised it took this long for you to admit to your darker emotions. I thought it would come out faster once you had someone other than Jane to talk to. That it didn't, that you waited until you were far from Jane, tells me you do indeed love her very much to want to spare her that pain. But I think she already knows. Is why she's so willing to die for you."

Jack sat still for a long moment before breathing out a shaky breath that turned into a cloud of ice crystals in the frozen air before he suddenly leaned into North and cried. North wrapped his arms around the boy who wasn't really a boy at all, for all he looked and even acted as one, and North whispered comforting nonsense words as they sat and rocked on the snow. It was good to cry sometimes, to give the emotions that had built up inside an outlet to get out through, and this involved emotions several decades in the building. When Jack's emotional outburst slowed, North offered something a bit more hopeful.

"Ah, is good to let things out, no? And do not despair. Now that we know exactly what binding entails, we can work out ways to break or twist it to advantage. Tangling might be best option. Nightlight mentioned something called star-binding that might help. Says he's not old enough to know details yet, but Sol or Sandy should and Sandy is fellow Guardian and much easier to talk to than Sol. You will like him, I think."

With that, North stood and felt grateful both he and Jack were spirits, as they probably would have frozen to death otherwise. Jack, with a grateful smile, took a few long minutes of intense concentration and, with a sudden change of hair and eye color that didn't last more than a moment, managed to create hand and footholds for them to use to climb out of their hole.

"Very impressive! We will have to see what you can do with ice blocks in office! But come. Others must be worried by now."

North was relieved when Jack smiled and followed him back to the Workshop, where several yeti were waiting with dry clothes and warm drinks. The trapped spirit was much more relaxed now, less tense. Even better, they had a path forward from here. Things were looking up.

* * *

**Notes: **

_Sestrenka_ means "little sister" in Russian according to the website I used.

Stethoscopes weren't invented until 1816, so Jane, of course, would have no idea what one is or how it's supposed to be used, although she would find someone using it to see if her brain was healthy and hearing her curiosity amusingly odd.

And we find out just what an evil bastard Pitch is. He took an act of consensual binding and twisted it. And since everyone agreed to the binding, someone on the outside can't just break it apart. The binding also lets people back out of it by breaking their terms. Jane can break out of it at any time, both by willing it with her magic or by "killing" Jack's human form, thereby breaking her terms that Jack be alive as he was before he died until the day she died. But that would still leave the binding between Pitch and Jack intact. Jack can't break his terms because he didn't make any because Pitch is a lying liar who lies. Which leaves the only way out being Pitch backing out of the binding or breaking his terms. Considering breaking his terms would mean he no longer gains Jack as his slave (not something he's going to just give up) or doing something stupid, like killing Jane personally (again, not likely to happen), our protagonists are kind of screwed. Good thing the others have an idea.

Jack's outburst was a long time coming, honestly. I've been hinting he has issues with the situation as far back as chapter one. But he's always aware its not entirely Jane's fault. Some of it is his and most of it is Pitch's. She's just the easiest to blame and that's not fair to her and he knows it. That doesn't stop resentment from building up, though, and make no mistake, he does resent her. He em_died_/em for her – which is enough to cause resentment right there – but her reaction to that was was to make a deal with a dark spirit that not only enslaves him, but in doing so put herself in a position of danger that basically forced him to agree to being enslaved. Knowing he would have agreed anyway, even knowing what he does now, just to protect her, doesn't make that any easier to stomach. Having no one to voice this to except his family – who would have been very hurt by his feelings, even as understandable as they are – or people who he suspected would turn on him given a moment's notice and a dose of Fear or, for a short time, the native spirit and Oswald, neither of which could actually understand him... Yeah, Jack's needed someone to interact with in a healthy manner for quite some time. Nightlight helps him forget and find his center that's almost been buried under resentment and distrust, and North is a willing listener who gives good advice. And Jack's always going to have resentment and trust issues because of the situation, but at least now he'll have ways of dealing with them instead of letting them fester.


	14. Chapter 14: An Engagement of Convenience

Warnings? Not really for this chapter, beyond me keeping the title of co-president of the Evil Author's Club. On the plus side, you get a few explanations and Sandy - finally - shows up.

* * *

_**Chapter 14: An Engagement of Convenience**_

Sanderson ManSnoozie aka the Sandman – or Sandy to his friends – viewed time as simplistic and complicated all at once. He was living in the Now. Everything prior to Now was Before, and everything that had yet to happen was Later. Simple and very easy to understand. It was measuring time, as non-stars were prone to do, that confused him. As a former wishing star pilot, he did comprehend the concept of using a loop as a measure. He'd had a set pattern to follow and it was easy enough to note how many loops he'd gone through, but that was highly subjective and he knew it, which was why he found other loops being used as a measure of time so confusing. Years, for example, didn't make sense to him because apparently a year was how long it took a planet to circle its star, but each planet took a different amount of time to circle a star. He guessed it was a reference to the planet they were currently on, except humanity's idea of a year didn't match how long it actually took their planet to circle their star.

Months were even worse, or there would be no such thing as a blue moon. How could a measurement of time based on the movement of the Moon have two full moons? And why would it turn the Moon blue? It mystified Sandy. Days were also something that baffled Sandy. He followed the setting sun and the sun was always setting somewhere, so how could you measure time based on when it rose? The closest Sandy got to divining human time was seasons. When it started getting cold in the area called the Northern Hemisphere, it was probably getting close to Nicholas St. North's holiday, which had a rather arbitrary date as far as Sandy was concerned. Why that day? What made it that particular day and not some other day? Surely any other day would work just as well. At least Aster's holiday was based on the movement of the Moon and when the season of Spring was likely to begin in the Northern Hemisphere, which was much more comprehensible to Sandy, if just barely.

No, Sandy preferred his way of keeping time as it made much more sense than things like seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years. He had been a wishing star pilot Before, he was the Guardian of Dreams Now and Later... Well, he didn't know, but that was Later and not worth worrying about Now. And right Now, he was sending out sweet dreams and being hailed by one of North's yeti. Being approached by a yeti wasn't that odd to Sandy, who by now was used to having his friends send out someone to find him when they desired his presence Now in a non-emergency situation because their idea of Later and his didn't mesh. Sure, they could specify they wanted him to visit on the tenth at six o'clock sharp, but the tenth of what? And six o'clock sharp where? Easier to just send someone to fetch him Now than to specify a Later that made no sense to Sandy at all.

And that was why, not much Later, Sandy was Now in North's Workshop, enjoying plenty of eggnog and these really remarkable cookies that had a sandy texture to them while listening in alarm to a very odd story indeed. North himself was explaining most of what was going on, but the two the story was about were also present, as was Mother Nature herself and the wizard Ombric.

"I still don't entirely understand what you mean by 'tangling the oaths'," the Overland who looked older but actually wasn't – and wasn't that confusing? - admitted, her brow furrowing.

"Ah, well, you see, my dear," Ombric explained, "The way things stand, breaking the oath is far too dependent upon Pitch's actions. Thus, the best thing to do in the meantime to keep Jack safe would be making it impossible for his terms to come into effect and the best way to do that would be another oath. To have a binding oath be unfulfillable thanks to another binding oath is known as tangling because the more oaths involved the harder it is to fulfill the oaths without breaking one, not unlike having to cut a knot."

"Nightlight thought a star-binding may help," North added, "but he is lacking full knowledge of what it is. What do you think, Sandy?"

What did he think? Were Aster and Toothiana involved as well?

"No, I'd rather no one else knew. Too many people are involved in this already," Mother Nature insisted.

"Wait, wouldn't having more people involved help things?" Jack asked. No, no it wouldn't, Sandy knew, and he quickly shook his head and formed an X over his head with his sand, much to the Overlands' confusion.

"Why not?"

"You have not dealt with many spirits, so you wouldn't know this, but nature spirits are very... demanding," Mother Nature attempted to explain. "There is a very strict hierarchy. I am at the top because I can step in temporarily for any other nature spirit or sprite in existence. Directly under me are the Four Seasons, who represent all aspects of their season. It is a powerful position, and one much coveted."

"Then how did I get it? I mean, I'm Winter, right? That makes me one of the Seasons, doesn't it?"

"It does," Mother Nature confirmed, "And you gained it mostly by necessity. All spirits take on aspects of what they truly represent. Most spirits associated with Winter tend to focus on the fact Winter is cold and thus are often very cruel. Giving the power of a Season to a cruel spirit is just asking for trouble. MiM assured me you were perfect for the job so I allowed it and, I must admit, you exceed my expectations. The problem is, with your current predicament, the other nature spirits will not see it that way. They will see 'human' and think 'weak'. The winter spirits try to eliminate any of their kind they consider powerless and you would not long survive if they thought they could kill you. Worse, the other nature types will see what they think is a cruel winter spirit that has been handicapped and would think they'd be doing everyone a favor by getting rid of you."

"So I'm basically a sitting target? Great, thanks so very much."

"It's not that bad, Jack. Well, it is, but it won't be," Ombric insisted.

"Oh, yeah, and why's that?" Jack countered.

"Because the nature spirits recognize and greatly respect strength. And whatever they might think when they look at you right now, you are not weak. You are Winter and all that entails. That is why you were not bothered as a new spirit."

"Wait, what?"

"Did you not think it was odd that you didn't see any other spirits your first year? Every spirit connected to nature in some way in existence knew you had been chosen, so it was not ignorance that kept them away from you. It was fear."

"Fear?" Jane asked incredulously when her brother just gaped.

"A new Seasonal is not something any spirit wants to tangle with," Ombric offered. "They already have all of the powers they will have, but none of the control. Accidentally upsetting or angering someone who can cause a flood or a blizzard or an earthquake is a bad enough idea; doing so to someone whose powers are on a hair-trigger is worse."

"Indeed. Jack Frost with his full power behind him is not someone they will consider messing with – unless they have a reason to believe he can't bring his full power to the table in a fight."

"Like right now," Jack said, slumping. "Okay, so no other spirits. At least not nature spirits. But why not the other Guardians? Or other types of spirit? There are other types, right?"

"There are, but most spirits are connected to nature in some way. Finding one who isn't is rare. North here, for example, is rather closely associated with Winter, despite not being a nature spirit and the fact his holiday falls during a time that is Summer to half of the world. We are also in a position where the more people who know, the harder it will be to keep this a secret. Santoff Claussen and its people and spirits are relatively isolated and thus not much of a concern, as is the Workshop and its inhabitants. However, Aster is too closely connected to Spring for my sense of peace. Toothiana is not connected to nature, but her fairies are everywhere and far too chatty. Best if they don't know. Honestly, if not for Sanderson's silence and the fact many of the spirits under me lack the patience to try and comprehend him, I wouldn't have agreed to allow his involvement either," Mother Nature primly explained.

Sandy was affronted and quickly made an image of a key locking a box up tight and then throwing away the key.

"Yes, we know you won't tell anyone, Sandy," North quickly assured him, "but back to star-binding. Do you think it would help?"

Yes. No. Maybe? It depended on how they used it. And if the star involved didn't mind being used. Having the power of a star behind a binding was powerful indeed. In fact, the binding Pitch had corrupted in order to trap the Overlands was based off of star-binding. No, the problem was the main purpose behind a star-binding, which Sandy was having some trouble getting across if the confused looks at his sand pantomime were anything to go off of. Then a glimmer of understanding made Jack straighten up from where he'd knelt to better view Sandy's show.

"Wait! Wait, wait, wait. I want to make sure I'm getting this right. I would have to get married?"

Yes! Sandy nodded, and then quickly shook his head because, No! There were various types of star-bindings but the only one Nightlight wouldn't have full knowledge of – and wouldn't until he was ready and capable of making well-formed long-term decisions – and was likely to do them the most good was basically a wedding oath between stars. But it wasn't Jack who would need to be involved in the oath.

"Me?" Jane said, surprised, when she realized Sandy was pointing at her. Sandy nodded and smiled at her. Then came the long and convoluted explanation of what star-binding between a star and non-star meant. Jane was quite red and looked very embarrassed once Sandy finished, although Sandy couldn't think of why. Stars – which was basically a word to describe a very diverse group, not unlike the words canines and felines – didn't reproduce the same way mortal creatures did. Actually, Sandy didn't know how mortal creatures reproduced. He had that information categorized under "Stuff I don't know and don't need to know." Still, he'd given enough sweet dreams involving impatient older siblings finally being able to play with their new younger sibling that he had a pretty good idea that mortal young spent some time inside a parent, even if he didn't know how they got there or how they got out, and stars didn't do that at all.

"So you're saying it would make her immortal?" Jack asked, focusing on the more pertinent information.

Functionally so, yes. She'd live as long as whoever she star-bonded with. That was the point, because otherwise mortal (and even immortal) lives were but a blink or so of Now between Before and Later. Of course, very few mortals or immortals liked to live that long and sometimes love didn't last, sad as it was, which is why the star-binding allowed either party to leave at any time. But because both entering and leaving was so easy for the parties involved, it was literally impossible to break from the outside. And Jane wouldn't have to live as long as the star, either, just long enough for Pitch's terms to be unfulfillable. They just had to find someone willing.

That bit of information brought the entire discussion to a halt. Mother Nature looked unimpressed by the looks the males in the room were giving each other.

"Oh, don't everyone offer all at once," Jane responded acerbically to the silence. "Although I shouldn't be surprised that now it's not only possible, but necessary for me to marry, I'm far too old to be interesting."

"Not true, Miss Jane. You are very lovely woman, and best baker I have ever met," North gallantly replied.

"Then why don't _you_ marry her?" Jack asked, his expression not quite a smirk but expectant nonetheless.

"Jack!" Jane scolded.

"What? You need to get married, North's an immortal spirit so you'll live a long time, and don't tell me it's because you want to be in love first. You didn't love any of your other suitors, but the reason you didn't marry any of them had nothing to do with your feelings and everything to do with whether or not they'd put up with _me_. And North's been doing a pretty good job of putting up with me."

"Still, just demanding he marry me-"

"Jack is right," North interrupted before Jane could get anymore wind in her sail. "There is no reason why I cannot and many reason why I should." He startled everyone by suddenly kneeling in front of her and taking her hands. "Miss Jane Overland, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"

Jane just sat there, blinking in shock, until Jack nudged her, making her jump.

"I... uh... Yes."

* * *

After everyone recovered from their stunned surprise – and North got Sandy to reluctantly agree to officiate over his objections that it was a bit more complicated than that – the Workshop immediately turned towards wedding preparation. It was going to be big and grand because of course North wouldn't settle for anything less. Even Jane was starting to get into it, babbling about the kind of cake she wanted to make as elves and yeti surrounded her with various fabrics to choose for the dress. Of course, the preparations meant the wedding wouldn't take place immediately. Even yeti ingenuity couldn't manage that, especially with elves underfoot. Thus Mother Nature departed to attend to her duties and Ombric left to remind the inhabitants of Santoff Claussen to be very careful when talking about the human boy who'd visited over the winter.

North had managed to nab Sandy before he took off as well and asked the dream-giver to stay so a yeti wouldn't have to be sent out to find him once everything was ready. Sandy had agreed and was currently drowning himself in eggnog and having an increasingly incomprehensible conversation with Jack. Jack, for his part, was rather enjoying his new game. Talking with Sandy was like a puzzle to begin with and while Jack was getting better at it, the difficulty level kept increasing the more inebriated Sandy became. Jack also kept up with it because the little man seemed overjoyed Jack hadn't gotten bored and wandered off mid-conversation. Eventually, however, Sandy drifted off to sleep and didn't wake up immediately after and Jack realized it was late enough he should be in bed as well.

"Hey, Sandy," Jack said, gently waking the little man, "I'm going to head to bed. You probably should too. I bet North's already got a room ready for you."

Sandy nodded sleepily before suddenly brightening and letting Jack know he wanted to give Jack a sweet dream.

"Yeah, sure! Just let me get ready and into bed first. I'd rather fall asleep there than the floor." Sandy readily agreed and they parted ways soon after, Jack to get ready for bed and Sandy to make sure he did indeed have a room set aside for his use.

The room North had granted Jack the use of was much larger and grander than anything Jack had ever slept in before and it actually made him slightly uncomfortable, so unused to such things he was. Between the moving and the heat sickness, he'd gotten used to a small mattress stuffed with straw and homespun blankets placed on the floor in a cramped but cool room with the small chest they kept clothes in maybe close at hand. The guest room, in comparison, was big and and bright and airy and the furniture included a soft bed big enough to hold an entire family, a set of comfy chairs, some bedside tables, and a wardrobe big enough to hold North himself and still have room for half a yeti.

Jack... well, he didn't hate it, but he definitely didn't like spending a lot of time in the room. And he hadn't dared mention it to North because what kind of guest complains that their room is too nice? And maybe it was his imagination but since everything was nice and bright, the shadows seemed darker and crisper in contrast. Which is why he threw wide open the doors on the wardrobe, letting the light penetrate the darkness it held alongside the clothes. Thankfully, Jack didn't own many clothes, even after their clothing had been fetched and despite the tendency for new outfits sized to fit him perfectly randomly appearing in the wardrobe, so it was easy to make sure nothing was lurking in any remaining shadows. Once he was satisfied, Jack proceeded to quickly change into a clean white nightshirt and then to dim the lights down to a single candle in a stand on the bedside table.

Jack was sitting on the bed, tracing a pattern on the quilt while waiting for Sandy when it happened. The candle's flame guttered and nearly flickered out entirely but no breeze moved in the enclosed room. The Wind was outside and had remained so even after Mother Nature had left and it suddenly started to wail in alarm at the closed windows and around the corners of the complex. More sounds clamored, distant from the halls the guest rooms were in. And in Jack's room, the wardrobe door creaked open just a crack.

The door wasn't able to get any farther before Jack took a flying leap at the wardrobe, slamming it shut from the force his body hit it with, and he pressed desperately against it as whatever monster that was inside pounded insistently at the doors, trying to get out even as Jack pressed back. The sound of claws scrabbling against the wood shredded the air even as Jack tried to grasp at the power in himself that he'd finally managed to reach after decades of trying. Then he had it and the ice formed in the cracks of the wardrobe, blocking the doors and sealing it shut. The wardrobe jumped and something snarled, but the ice held, letting Jack feel secure enough to step back and wonder what was going on. This wasn't supposed to be happening! They were supposed to be safe here!

"Ja~ack. Oh, Ja~ack. Where are you, Jack? I've been looking for you," that voice, like a whisper in a funeral home, loud in the sudden dead silence, echoed around the room. Jack bolted for the door, only to find it wouldn't budge, no matter how he tugged. A sudden knock on the door scared Jack, making him leap back at the sudden noise in alarm. Then a stream of golden sand slid under the door and formed an question mark.

"Sandy? Sandy! He's here, Sandy! Pitch is in the Workshop and I can't get the door open!" Jack yelled as he went back to trying to unsuccessfully yank open the door by any means possible. The sand formed an exclamation point before sliding away and Jack became aware of Sandy trying to break down the door from the other side to no avail.

A loud creak made Jack whirl around, pressing his back to the wall beside the shaking door as Sandy continued to batter it. The candle barely lit the room with its flickering light, but it was still perfectly possible to see the doors of the wardrobe standing wide open, grooves left on the inside of the doors where fingernails had scratched and bitten deep into the wood. Jack quickly took in the room, trying to see where the monster had gone, but there was nothing visible in the dim light. No monsters. No moving shadows. Nothing but a room lit by a suddenly steady flame atop a candle. Jack frowned and moved a careful step away from the wall, then two, then more as he rapidly moved to pick up the candle holder. Once he had it in his grip, he slowly turned, shining light into previously dark corners, wary of anything unexpected. The wardrobe was empty of anything except clothes, much to Jack's consternation. He grimaced and turned around, only to come face to leering face with Pitch.

"There you are," Pitch stated, sharp grin growing wider. Jack yelped and threw the candle, holder and all, at him. Pitch Black dodged and then disappeared as Jack's action made the candle go out, plunging the room into true darkness, just before a battering ram made of golden sand finally broke down the door, letting in Sandy and the light from the hallway. Jack twisted and turned, frantically trying to figure out where Pitch went even as Sandy moved to stand beside him, whips of golden sand at the ready.

"He was here, Sandy. He was just here! Where did he go?" Jack managed to get out. Sandy laid a hand on his shoulder and Jack felt himself relax at the comforting touch. He laughed and shook his head. "I must be a sight. And I'm just giving Pitch what he wants by being scared. Thanks, Sandy. We should find the others. It'll be safer if we're all together."

Sandy nodded in agreement and moved to shepherd Jack from the damaged room but, just as Jack's forward movement brought him closer to the bed, something reached out and grabbed his foot. Jack fell with a yelp and grabbed at the bedside rug even as he kicked at whatever had grabbed him with his free foot. Kicking didn't work because now the monster had both of his feet. Sandy grabbed Jack's hand and Jack clasped it back as Sandy tried to pull Jack free. The monster retaliated by getting a better grip right above Jack's knees and yanking, dragging them both underneath the bed.

* * *

The attack made by the Fearlings took everyone by surprise, as did their sudden retreat. The Globe Room and everything just off it was a complete mess, and not in just the normal chaotic way. North scowled at shambles his Workshop was in before turning to make sure Jane was unharmed. She had apparently survived the battle with nary a scratch and was currently pushing her way past the six yeti that had protectively surrounded her.

"Jack!" she shouted as she ran toward the hall the guest rooms they were staying in were located. North moved to follow her, several yeti moving to flank him. He caught up to her when she came to a halt outside Jack's room. The door had been broken down and the room was a mess. The wardrobe doors had been clawed from the inside and hung open, one on only one hinge. The bedding was rumpled, a broken candle and its stand lay on the floor, resulting in still warm wax spreading out on the wood, and the rug had been half dragged under the bed. North quickly turned the bed on its side, but nothing was under it at all. There were fine grains of golden sand caught on the rug and in the cracks of the damaged door leading to the room.

"Spread out and search for Jack and Sandy!" North ordered. The yeti quickly complied but North had the sneaking suspicion that they wouldn't find either one. The shadows had gotten what they'd come for.

* * *

**Notes:** Yeah, I don't think any of you were expecting any of that. And no, Jane and North aren't in love at this point in time. Jane has a mild crush and North respects her talents, but love and romance won't enter the picture until some time after things settle down a bit - which, as you might of guessed, isn't going to be any time soon.


	15. Chapter 15: Darkest Before Dawn

For everyone who had something to say about last chapter's previous cliffhanger, you're going to hate me for this one because this chapter's a killer.

* * *

_**Chapter 15: Darkest Before Dawn**_

Pitch Black could have easily grabbed Jack at any point before now but, really, what would have been the point? Jack bound in his human form was useless to Pitch and his plans. He'd never have performed the spell at all if it hadn't been necessary for the binding. And there was no point in kidnapping a human he'd then have to feed and clothe and generally care for when someone else was already willing to do so. No, Jane could have her brother until she died and Jack was no longer bound by the human form. Then he would belong to Pitch and the End Game could begin.

Everything else had been for the fun of it. Taunting the family, making them run in ripe, delicious fear had been nothing short of delightful. The possibility of Jane's life ending that much sooner as a result had just been a bonus, really, a sweet treat at the end of a meal. Christmas Eve had just been a bolder rendition of that and a taste of what Jack could expect in his near future. That is, until that misbegotten maniac North intervened. Suddenly the Overlands were impossible to find and that hadn't sat well with Pitch at all so he'd started his search in earnest.

Night fell everywhere eventually, and still Pitch couldn't find them, which left one place left. But Pitch had attacked Santoff Claussen enough times for Ombric to up his wards greatly. The entire valley, starting at the outer edge of the magical woods, was set slightly out of time from the rest of the world. Pitch and his minions could break through the wards, oh, yes, but only a few at a time and the time difference was enough for the wards to retaliate, for the alarms to sound, for a star-child to get in the extremely decisive first blow. Pitch had been forced to retreat, much to his anger. He still hadn't fully recovered from his last defeat and currently couldn't afford to waste his Fearlings and Nightmare Men on weakening Santoff Claussen's wards and defenders. That was why he needed Jack. Let's see how that Moon-blessed brat Nightlight liked being frozen solid!

Then they moved the Overlands. Pitch had no idea why and it had taken him several days – and a Nightmare trying to feed on the fear caused by being uncomfortable in a new room, only to back away and report when it realized who it was and where it was coming from – for him to realize it had happened. It hadn't been hard to infer what the yeti were doing and why. He'd looked at star-binding briefly as a possibility when he'd first stumbled across Jack and Jane and knew exactly what a wedding would mean to his plans. So he'd acted. He did so hate exposing his hand before he was ready, but with the Guardians realizing he had plans for Jack Frost, something had to be done. The boy had put up a fight, showing an alarming ability with ice even in his human form, but Pitch had managed to grab him with only one real problem.

Sanderson was not supposed to be along for the ride.

* * *

Sandy clung as tightly as he could to Jack's hand as they were rapidly pulled down a black tunnel towards the center of the earth. Well, normally black. Sandy's own glow was dimly lighting each section of the tunnel as they thundered past, enough to make out branching offshoots that led off in dark directions. Jack was clinging back just as firmly as he was dragged down, an alarmed look on his face.

"Sandy!"

Sandy grimaced because Jack could obviously feel what Sandy could – their grip wasn't enough and it was slipping. That's when the shadow hit them. Or maybe they hit it. Sandy wasn't sure. All he knew was that suddenly he was face-to-face with very large number of teeth as the shadow shrieked angrily at him and attacked. It wasn't a conscious move, honestly, to drop what he was holding and lash out with twin whips that quickly and neatly divided the creature in twain. It wasn't until Jack let out an alarmed cry before vanishing in the dark that Sandy realized that they'd just been neatly separated. And that he wasn't alone. Seeing the shadow monsters circling, Sandy rolled up some imaginary sleeves and got ready to battle his way out.

* * *

Jack slammed against the hard rock floor painfully, knocking the breath out of him. Then Pitch Black was there, on top of him and pinning him against the ground. Jack yelped and kicked out and attempted to back away from the dark spirit because the thought of having the other's body pressed against him while he was half-naked did not appeal to Jack at all.

"You! What are you doing?"

"I noticed the both of you trying to cheat. So I'm doing a little cheating of my own," Pitch replied as he kept a tight hold of Jack's wrists and pushed him against the floor.

"Oh, as if you weren't cheating the entire time! And get off of me!" Jack demanded, anger bubbling up hot and acrid, but much better than the bitter fear of before.

"Please, it's not as if Jane specified the length of her life," Pitch said as he managed to move his hold so both of Jack's wrists were pinned but he would have a free hand.

"You didn't exactly specify it either," Jack pointed out. Pitch grabbed Jack's face, thumb and fingers wrapping around chin and digging into cheeks, and the Boogieman bared his teeth in something less than a smile and more like a snarl.

"That doesn't matter! What matters is that you are _not_ getting out of this deal! I won't let you!"

Jack spat in his face, too infuriated and defiant to feel fear at the time. A crack echoed around the dark hall. The backhand had been vicious enough that Jack was forced to spit blood out of his mouth from where his lip had caught on his teeth. Then Pitch was pulling him upright and dragging him by the wrists up a set of stairs to where a cage hanging from the ceiling stood open. Pitch shoved Jack inside and neatly closed and locked it a moment before Jack managed to recover his balance and attempted to lunge for the exit. The cage shook and swayed when Jack hit it, snarling at Pitch.

"Now, now. This is for your own good. And the cage will only be temporary. After tonight, the binding will be more than sufficient. Now, if you excuse me, I think your sister and I need to have a little chat."

"Stay away from her, you fiend! If you touch her, I'll kill you!"

"Oh, but of course I won't touch her, Jack! I'm not the one destined to end her. No, no, I've got other plans for that." Then Pitch slipped away with a chuckle that echoed long after he'd gone.

Jack huffed and studied his cage. It was of some strange, dark metal that seemed to absorb any light that touched it – not that there was much light down in this place – and just short enough Jack had to duck his head if he stood upright. The bars were spaced widely enough that a small child could slip through, but they'd been reinforced with a metal wire mesh that was small enough Jack couldn't even force the tip of his pinkie through. That left the door and its lock, the key to which had disappeared into the nothing Pitch wore like a robe. Jack frowned at it and then focused.

Dragging his power from behind the veil of humanity surrounding him wasn't unlike trying to raise a boulder from a deep well with only the help of a pulley and a thread. It was technically possible, but extremely difficult and there was the constant worry the thread would break. Still, slowly and somewhat nerve-wracking, it came and Jack focused it on the lock. Ice formed in the small space and Jack used it to try and feel the shape of the lock before changing the ice. It was slow and difficult and the ice was sluggish to react even as it threatened to melt on him, but Jack managed to use the ice to pick the lock.

"Hah! Try and lock me up, will he? Now to find Sandy and get out of here."

* * *

Sandy was getting frustrated. None of the monsters he'd encountered thus far were a match for him, but they kept turning him around and now Sandy was hopelessly lost in Pitch's realm. They also wouldn't stop bothering him, making him suspect that they'd been ordered to harry him and keep him busy the moment it looked like he was getting somewhere. For the first time ever, Sandy wished he had a way to tell time because then he'd know exactly how long he'd been down here trying to get out, fighting shadows all the while. He just finished with the majority of a batch guarding some sort of entryway, leaving only a few left.

CRACK! CRACK! Two down. Sandy huffed and eyed the next skulking shadow warily. It eyed him back as it shifted silently. Their standoff abruptly ended when the shadow lunged with a snarl. CRACK! None left blocking the entryway. Maybe now he could finally get somewhere.

The entryway led into a square room with four doors, one on each wall, one of which being the one Sandy had just come in from. Huh. Three options, unless... Sandy opened the door he'd just come in through and looked out. Another long, dark hallway, but not the one he'd just left. So four options, then. Sandy closed his eyes, turned in a circle, then walked forward until he was certain he should have hit a door or a wall and then opened his eyes.

Sandy blinked and then his eyes widened in surprise because he seemed to have accidentally wandered into some sort of treasure or trophy room. Of course, what shadows consider to be treasure is gothic at best and macabre at worst. There was dark jewelry made of tarnished silver and jet and obsidian patterned with snake and spiders, bats and wolves. There was a newborn's first wail and a dying man's last scream. There was a mirror that absorbed light instead of reflecting it, it's frame decorated with skulls and bones. There were the remains of favored victims. And, oddly enough, a staff of gnarled wood with a hook not unlike a shepherd's crook was laid out in a place of honor on a worn black velvet cushion.

What an odd thing, Sandy thought, but then again hadn't the Overlands' story included a staff? Perhaps this was it. So Sandy sent out some of his sand, carefully disarming any traps, and picked it up. Now to see if he could find Jack and the exit, preferably in that order.

* * *

The place kept changing on him. That was the only logical reason Jack could come up for how he could leave from a door in what he'd dubbed 'the north side', walk down a perfectly straight if dark hall with no curves, loops, or corners, and come out of a door a level up in the same room on the 'east' side. And it was the same room, complete with dreary interior decorating and the cages, including the one with ice still in its lock. And it wasn't just that door, either. Jack had tried every single door he could see, even going back out of ones he'd just come in from, and he ended up back in the room. He'd tried one door twice in a row and came back to the room through a different door the second time.

Then Jack found a door that led to a hallway lined with doors. He'd practically cried with joy as opened the first door. It led back to the room. Jack backed into the hallway and opened a door on the other side of the hall. It also led into the room, just from a different angle. More doors were thrown open. They all led back to the first room, every single one. Jack started running down the hallway, trying doors at random. He quickly realized that not only did all of the doors lead back to the room, but the hall was apparently endless. He couldn't see an ending point in either direction and he didn't get anywhere no matter how fast he ran.

"Okay, now you're just messing with me!" Jack growled in frustration at no one in particular and the realm in general before he kicked lightly at the door he'd just closed. At least he hadn't stumbled across any of the shadow men or nightmares. He had no clue what he'd do if he ran into one. Oh, Jack knew what he'd like to do, but the best weapon he had to hand was the knife he'd managed to forge out of ice and quite frankly, Jack doubted his ability with it in a fight, not to mention how hard it would be to concentrate on the magic to keep it hard enough to do any good. Assuming an ice knife would do any good against shadows. Jack had his doubts.

And apparently the shadows had sensed his fear because suddenly the hall was crawling with living shadows. Jack cursed and held his knife at the ready, despite his doubts of its efficacy. One of the nightmares snorted and stamped its hooves while the other shadows leered.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he challenged. Maybe the realm or one of the shadows or something thought he wasn't appropriately frightened by the situation because that's when the floor suddenly disappeared. That did scare Jack and he let out a wail as he found himself falling. He lost the knife when he hit something and went tumbling right before he landed on something surprisingly soft that sent out a cloud of golden sand...

Sand!

"Sandy! Oh, am I glad to see you!" Jack enthused as he quickly got off of the little man who looked somewhat dazed by having a boy dropped on him. Then an alarmed look came to Sandy's face right before he laid into the shadow men and nightmares that had followed Jack down. Jack quickly cast about for a weapon so he could help before remembering the ice, but by the time he'd reformed the ice dagger, Sandy had taken care of them all.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," Jack said with a grin. Sandy just gave Jack a proud little smile as he dusted his hands off.

"Any idea of how to get out of here? I've been trying for what feels like hours."

Sandy shook his head. Jack slumped and sighed.

"Great. If only I had full access to my powers, I could just call up Wind and have it fly us out. It's next to impossible to keep Wind out of anywhere and it's definitely impossible to keep it locked up somewhere."

Sandy paused before suddenly brightening and, from somewhere within the mass of sand trailing him, pulled out something very familiar to Jack even if it had been decades since he'd last seen it.

"My staff! Sandy, where did you find this? Never mind, just give it here and I'll get us out of here."

Sandy shook his head and formed an image of two strands forming into a knot above his head.

"You... want me to make an oath?" Jack translated, frowning in concentration as more images appear before his expression gave way to shock. "So you can protect me?"

Sandy nodded vigorously even as he flashed more images to explain his thought process. A Seasonal, a former Wishing Star, and an Object of Power for an exchange? They could easily do a binding oath. It wouldn't keep Pitch's terms from coming into effect because that involved Jane, but they could tangle the oaths here and now in such a way that it would cause Pitch trouble even if the worse were to happen and his terms were met.

"I like this! Let's do it! I, Jack Frost, in exchange for my staff, vow to use my powers only for things that are good, harmless, or fun," he said, not entirely certain why he added the last but knowing it felt right to do so, "or any combination there of and never for harm or evil or any combination there of, no matter what anyone else may try and force me to do, for as long as I live."

Sandy's response was non-verbal, but basically amounted to this: _I, Sanderson ManSnoozie, in exchange for this staff, vow to protect Jack Frost so that he can fulfill his oath to me, until the day one of us no longer exists._

The staff exchanged hands and the results were immediate. And, to those with eyes to see, a gold thread joined the others wrapped around Jack.

* * *

"Jane."

She sat upright at the sound of her name. She'd fallen into a doze on the sill of her window, too worried about Jack to try sleeping but too tired to be truly awake.

"Jane."

It sounded like Jack, only it was tiny and distant, like he was a long way away.

"Jack?"

"Jane!"

It was coming from outside. Jane's mind swam with questions. Did he get free from Pitch? How did he get free? It was a blizzard out there! What was he doing outside? Jane moved to quickly throw on a coat and boots, determined to locate Jack, who was obviously lost outside in the snow. Getting to the front door meant weaving through the yeti still cleaning the mess from earlier, but most of them paid her no mind, too busy following North's booming orders. It wasn't until Jane pulled open the doors, helped by the wind pushing from outside, that shouts of alarm rang out before she dashed out into the snow. Jack needed her.

The snow stung, ice crystals being lashed against her face by the storm, and she quickly regretted not grabbing a scarf. Visibility was low, the Workshop a hulking form behind her dotted with bits of light and before her nothing but sheets of ice buried under drifts of snow.

"Jack!" Jane called, wrapping her hands around her mouth to make herself better heard.

"Jane?" It was still distant, but closer now that she was outside. Jane plunged out onto the ice shelves, breaking a path through snow drifting on top of hard-packed ice, not worrying if it was capable of supporting her weight. Her path quickly disappeared as she moved, the wind and snow covering her tracks. And as she moved, the lights of the Workshop disappeared from view.

"Jack! Jack!"

"Jane!" She could see a figure now, a spot of black against the gloomy ice. She rushed towards it even as the voice calling her name grew louder and louder. She could see him now, hair black in the light and clothes looking worse for the wear.

"Jack!" Jane breathlessly but gladly said as she reached for the figure now within arms reach. Then he turned and Jane stopped. It wasn't Jack. It was a shadow wearing his face and doing so badly. The hair wasn't just black in the light, it actually was black, in place of eyes were black holes in the face and Jack's impish grin was twisted, mouth stretched farther that it should be capable of and far too many teeth on display. It was, Jane realized, what she feared Jack would become after she was gone. That didn't make it any less frightening to come face-to-face with.

"Jane," it crooned in her brother's voice. "Come here, Jane." And then it reached for her with fingers like knives. Jane shrieked.

* * *

"Jane!" North bellowed out into the snow. The blizzard was fierce and kept blowing out the torches the yeti carried. They'd formed a line, North at the center, hoping to find her. North had no idea why she'd decided to run out into the snow this night but they needed to find her before she froze to death. She was still mortal, after all, the wedding having yet to take place. First Jack and Sandy were stolen and now Jane was lost. This was turning out to be a very bad night indeed. And then North cursed himself for thinking that because of course that's when things got worse.

The shadows rose up out of the dark, as shadows are wont to do, hissing as they came forward and attacked the line. Thankfully, the entire line was armed because of the earlier attack and soon yeti and shadows both were engaged in battle.

North unsheathed both of his swords, ducked under the punch from a fist larger than his head and chopped the arm clean off. The shadow creature wailed and gnashed its teeth before focusing back on North with a vengeance, the shadowy arm being absorbed back into the mass as it sprouted several more. North ducked and weaved, swords a wall of flashing metal as he sliced the creature before him. The star metal did it's work and the shadow fell into lumps before him.

His swords were singing and his blood was boiling and North couldn't help but laugh as he viciously took his next opponents head on, pressing ahead of the line of yeti who were also fighting and into the roiling mass of shadow beyond.

* * *

Her breath was coming out in panting huffs as she ran. She could still hear the creature crooning in her brother's voice as it followed her. Sometimes it would pop out of nowhere, herding her in the direction it wanted her to go. Jane didn't care, because she could finally make out the lights of the Workshop, hazy in the snow-filled air, and hear the sound of North and his yeti on the wind.

"North!" she cried out once she thought she saw him in the snow, unaware of her voice being carried away in the wrong direction by the storm. He would take care of the monster following her. Then he was there and she was smiling, only for her smile to fade as pain erupted in her gut. North's fierce expression turned confused and then faded into absolute horror while the shadows that had previously obscured and confused now laughed. North let go of his swords, only one of them hitting the ground, and then he was holding her, careful not to dislodge the sword impaling her as the snow below her turned red.

* * *

**Notes:** I honestly had a lot of trouble with Jack and Sandy's scenes until I finally realized I needed to focus less on what they needed to do (escape!) and more on how they were reacting to their surroundings. Once I did that, it because a lot easier because Pitch's Nightmare Fun-house was an awful lot of fun to write. And, well, those endless hallways in nightmares have to exist someplace and what better place than the Nightmare King's Realm?


	16. Chapter 16: 'Til Death Do Us Part

You lot are extremely lucky I felt bad at leaving you with such a nasty cliffhanger last chapter, because otherwise this would've been up _after_ I finished moving. As it is, I have a ton of stuff I still need to pack and need to get to that has been put off so I could write this.

* * *

**_Chapter 16: 'Til Death Do Us Part_**

North was horrified. Jane had come out of nowhere, or at least seemed to with the way the shadows and snow were moving. North had been in the moment, the thrill of the fight thrumming through his veins, and then what appeared to be a shadow had been much more solid that it should have been. Then he realized that was because it _was_ solid and wasn't a shadow at all. He'd dropped his swords in his dismay and caught Jane before she could do much more than gasp and give him a hurt and confused look.

The shadows around them snickered and gloated. North scowled at them as he carefully picked Jane up and cast a quick look behind to make sure he was moving in the right direction. He couldn't see Santoff Claussen, nor any of the yeti with their torches. He'd moved too far ahead and now shadows encircled him, blocking out any lights. This was bad. Gut wounds normally meant a slow, painful death. They could probably stabilize her at the Workshop until North got a hold of Ombric and his potions, but not if he couldn't find the way there. Worse, he'd dropped his other sword and now he couldn't find it, no matter how hard he scanned the ground.

"Looking for this?" North swung towards the speaker and, in the dying storm, saw Pitch holding his missing sword, running a testing thumb along the edge of the blade before holding it in such a way that made it clear Pitch intended to use it.

"You..."

"You know that oath of mine just means I can't touch her, North, not you. And with you out of the way, she won't be getting the medical help she needs, much less get married. I'll kill you here and now. No more Santa Claus or presents at Christmas or Wonder at all. Unless, of course, you could pull that sword out of her so you can fight against me properly and possibly save your miserable hide. Oh, but then she'll bleed out that much faster, won't she? It's plugging the worst of the damage, after all. And then you'll have to live with the knowledge that you killed her. But if you don't... Your choice, North. She's going to die either way, but you don't necessarily have to, not yet, and wouldn't it be kinder to make her death quick?"

North straightened to his full height but didn't set down Jane, who was gasping and clutching at where the sword pierced her. Pitch's eyes flickered before he smiled.

"Ah, you're going to make it easy for me. Noble to the end, eh, North?"

"Yes," North replied steadily. There weren't many things that could kill a spirit, but a star metal sword and a swift beheading would certainly do it. Pitch was very aware of that fact, based on his triumphant grin. Pitch swung the sword and North felt the metal bite the skin of his neck, but it stopped short of removing his head. In fact, the cut was rather shallow and would heal without a scar.

"What the?" Pitch snarled right before both he and North realized a golden whip had stopped Pitch's blow and was even now wrapped tautly around Pitch's wrist. Then the whip tugged and dragged Pitch from the shadow of circles. The remaining shadows looked surprised and North took the opportunity to dash through the gap left by Pitch's sudden departure before they gathered and started to chase.

Free of the enshrouding darkness, North could make out the distant lights of the Workshop and the few yeti-carried torches that had yet to be doused and even a hint of lightening of the sky that suggested dawn was imminent, even if the clouds remaining would block the sun. All of them were too far, especially considering the number of shadows between him and them, with more snapping at his heels with fierce determination. Between the storm dying, helping visibility in general, and Jane's bleeding making all too obvious of a trail, North couldn't even attempt hiding her long enough to fetch help more quickly than he could with her in his arms. What was more, fighting was also not an alternative, not without the possibility of setting Jane gently down in such a way that wouldn't dislodge the sword, something their pursuit would not offer. So North ran because there was no other option.

The following shadows were fast, too fast, having rallied quickly despite the sudden disappearance of their leader – something that gave North hope because he'd recognized the whip – and one of them managed to catch at North's heel. North stumbled, but managed to remain upright, although he shook Jane enough to make her moan in pain, something she had been stoically keeping under wraps until now. The stumble allowed the shadows just behind North to catch up and start surrounding them once more, forcing North to attempt to sprint faster, only to curse as clawed fingers on the end of reaching arms caught and pulled at his coat. He'd leave it behind if he could, but couldn't remove it while holding Jane.

Then ice, beautiful and surprisingly bright in the dim light, froze the grasping shadows and, as he struggled free, North had a brief glimpse of a white hair and ice blue eyes and Jack shouting, "Come on!"

"Jack!" Jane breathlessly exclaimed with a soft chuckle, "Oh, you beautiful imp, you've got your staff back!"

North laughed briefly as well as he started running again, this time covered by Jack throwing about ice and snow that glittered oddly in a way that suggested it was imbued with magic. North wasn't too surprised by that – Jack's power had been held back so long it was probably not even conscious on Jack's part, especially not while he was in the midst of a battle and wanting to cause damage – but North decided he'd like a closer look at what it was and what it could do once things had calmed down because whatever Jack was adding in was supremely effective against the shadows.

Pitch must have been able to break off his battle with Sandy, because the shadows stopped hounding and quickly reformed as a line separating North and Jane from the Workshop they so desperately needed to reach. This did allow North to finally make out Sandy, who was glaring at a nightmare-mounted Pitch, and Jack, who was extremely under-dressed in pretty much every way possible, considering he was running around in a nightshirt and very little else. Adding in the white hair and paler skin, Jack looked an awful lot like the ghost of a boy who'd died in his sleep. North made a mental note to keep Jack's clothes away from the white end of the spectrum in the future. Assuming they had a future. Jane wasn't looking good. While keeping the sword in place had prevented her from bleeding out right away, she was still bleeding out and that wasn't including what else might be leaking, thanks to the shadows taking advantage of North's battle lust.

Sandy spared them a look, only to perform a double-take, sand flying and making alarmed shapes above his head as he noticed North's sword buried in Jane's abdomen. This, North winced, caught Jack's attention as well and he looked appropriately horrified at the sight.

"Jane! What...? North, is that your sword?!"

"Shadows are being very tricky," North quietly replied. Jack huffed out a sigh before demanding, "You are going to make this right as soon as possible."

"Of course! But battling way to Workshop is going to be most difficult."

Jack looked at him like he was stupid before pointing out, "Marriage. Immortality. Ringing any bells?"

North felt like cursing because of course! They didn't need the Workshop! They just needed Sandy who was right there. The Sandman was in complete agreement, as well, judging by his enthusiastic nodding and a few of the pictograms flying in and out of existence above his head. The shadows didn't like that because that's when they broke rank and dove at them.

"Sandy!" Sandy nodded in acknowledgment of Jack's shout and suddenly North found himself rising above the tide of shadows on a cloud of golden sand. He swayed, footing initially unsteady until the sand compensated. Then they were above the remaining storm clouds and into the light of the newly dawning sun. Below them, the roiling clouds flashed with light and ice as Jack covered their escape.

Sandy was talking in his star pictographs and the sun seemed to dim slightly before brightening in response. North watched even as he gently set Jane down on the cloud; the sand quickly shaped itself in a way that was supportive without pressing against or jarring the sword on either side of her body. North was a bit more alarmed by what he was getting from Sandy's side of the conversation. That... really was more complicated than he'd thought and it changed things a bit. Ah, well, he'd already made his promises and there was no way he was backing out now. Then he realized Sandy was looking at him expectantly, a pictograph floating between them.

"Ah! Yes! Vows!" And then North stumbled trying to find the words to express what he was doing while the battle raged beneath them.

* * *

It had been far too long since Jack had been able to really let loose. He wasn't sure he'd ever done so, really, considering how close he'd stayed to the pond his first year. But now, there was nothing stopping him. Sandy had Jane and North safely out of the way, the yeti were too tough to be bothered by a bit of snow, and there were a lot of shadows that needed put into their place. Time to show Pitch why you don't mess with Winter. Of course, Jack had no real experience fighting, so all he was really doing was tossing around snow and ice at anything dark that moved and that wasn't nearly good enough against an experienced opponent. Pitch was only too glad to prove that.

North's stolen sword biting into the wood of the staff made Jack cry out in surprise and pain. That had hurt! He barely dodged the next swing of the sword and blocked the one after that, but was quickly realizing that Pitch was toying with him. The fact he was beating Jack so soundly despite Jack doing everything possible to keep up was frustrating for the winter spirit. Pitch was even using the flat of the blade to keep from damaging Jack too badly, even if he was keeping the younger spirit on his toes. Worse, with Pitch keeping him occupied, the shadows were making for Sandy's cloud and its occupants.

"Leave them alone, you bastard!" Jack yelled as he swung wildly, trying to get Pitch with a blast of ice. Pitch cackled as he side-stepped the blow with a dramatic whirl and once again put Jack on the defensive.

"Now why would I do that?"

The next thing Jack knew, he was hitting the ground back first painfully. He groaned and moved to sit up only for a multitude of shadow hands to drag him back down, pulling at his hair and clinging to his limbs. He felt them tug at the staff and tightened his grip until his knuckles whitened and the attempts to remove it made the skin of his hand feel raw. Jack was getting really tired of being manhandled by shadows and was struggling to get free when Pitch loomed over him.

"What the hell is it with you being so hands on?"

"Mmm... I like holding power in my hands. And you are powerful. Oh, the things we'll do together," Pitch said with a cackle. Jack started calling the dark spirit every nasty, naughty word he knew until more shadows gagged him.

"Why, Jack! Such a mouth," Pitch gleefully said, "Am I going to have to wash it out with soap?" Then suddenly the Boogieman paused and scowled.

"What is that? That gold thread? What...?" he demanded before looking upwards and hissing angrily. Jack had a brief moment of being happy he'd distracted Pitch from the wedding before the shadows swallowed him whole.

* * *

_Note to self, keep knife in boot from now on_, North decided firmly. Sandy had forged a sword out of dream sand for North when the shadow men attacked, but North was unused to the sand and found the sword awkward as a result. It kept shifting in length and breadth on him and the weight shifted along with, resulting in it always feeling off-balanced to North. Still, it was allowing North to fend off the shadows that got past Sandy's whips enough for the ceremony to continue.

"I, Nicholas St. North, also known as Santa Claus and the Guardian of Wonder, do take you as my own – Hah! – to share my life and all my glory with you – _grunt_ – until we decide to undo this contract or death takes us together as one. Hrah!" Closest shadow defeated, North spared a moment to glance at Sandy, who had slightly turned to get a better angle while taking out a particularly stubborn group with his whips. He nodded tightly at North and gestured at Jane. Slowly, pausing for breath or to work her way past the agony she was in, Jane repeated the oath.

"I, Jane Constance Overland, do take you as my own..."

Sandy suddenly straightened with an expression of alarm before he suddenly dove off the cloud, leaving the couple to blink in surprise where he'd been standing. A shadow attacking got North's attention. As he fought, he saw Sandy fighting with Pitch, but Pitch was not fighting fair, having taken Jack hostage and using the struggling spirit as a shield. North yelled, "Quickly, Jane! Continue!"

"D-do take you as my own, to share my life and all my glory with you, until we decide to undo this contract or... North, look out!"

The shadow beast was massive and while North was able to keep the claws from him, the sheer mass of it knocked him from the cloud. North barely managed to grab onto the silver lining of the cloud with one hand, dangling before the monster as it moved to swipe at him again. North blocked the blow, which was hard enough it sent shock waves up his arm and nearly caused him to lose his grip. The sword turned black as it corrupted before vanishing like dust in the air, leaving North weaponless once more.

The monster sniggered before yowling in anguish as a bloody sword ran it through. It fell into harmless dust, revealing Jane, wind-swept and ragged, determined and exhausted, before she slowly collapsed after having pulled the sword out of her own body in order to defend her groom.

"Jane! The oath!" North cried as he tried to find a better grip and pull himself up. As it was, he managed to grasp her dangling hand and look up at her.

"Death takes us all," Jane whispered.

The sunlight intensified, burning away the shadows foolish enough to have climbed up this far and forcing Pitch to dive back into the cover of the cloud. And underneath the glow, for those with eyes to see, bands wrapped around North and Jane, red and gold on her and gold and silver on him. But it wasn't complete, and they started to fade.

* * *

Sandy felt a little guilty about abandoning North and Jane, but they were at the point of the ceremony that they didn't really need him any longer, at least for a bit, and he was making sure the cloud remained solid in his absence, but he couldn't stay. The oath he'd made to Jack was thrumming because the other was in danger. Dismissing it was impossible, even to make sure the wedding went off alright. Now if only Pitch would stop using Jack as a living shield. Jack himself was obviously irritated by it, because he kept trying to send waves of ice at Pitch between trying to freeze the shadows holding him whenever Pitch dragged him back out of the shadows. He'd even nearly freed himself twice before Pitch pulled him back in.

"Would you quit it already?!" Jack howled the next time he was pulled out as a shield, throwing his head back hard enough to break Pitch's nose with a crunch. Pitch cried out and grabbed at his nose, holding it gingerly before snapping it back into place. By the time he'd done that, however, Sandy had helped Jack to free himself.

"Go!" Jack ordered as he turned the full might of his fury on Pitch. Right, the wedding! They needed to finish it or the binding wouldn't take. Sandy rocketed back up to his cloud, which had started to sink a little, grabbing North and getting him properly situated back on top as he did. North gave him a grateful look but they didn't have time for that. Sandy was already working on the next step of the binding.

* * *

Jack had managed to avoid being grabbed again, but nothing he was throwing at Pitch was working. It was like he wasn't strong enough but that couldn't be right. What had Ombric said about Seasonals? That they were dangerous because they had their full power but it was on a hair-trigger because they didn't know how to use it? So Jack reached the way he'd learned in his human form and he pulled. But instead of it being like dragging up a boulder from a well, reaching his power was like pulling up an extremely light bucket and the result was impressive. The ice em_glowed_/em and it spread so very quickly, immobilizing all in its path. Pitch was first followed by his minions. When it reached the yeti, they quickly shook it off – used to subzero temperatures – even as it kept spreading over the ice and snow and the Workshop itself. Startled, Jack dropped the power, and everything stopped freezing. The yeti quickly took advantage, shattering the still frozen shadow statues, at least the ones that hadn't been in the air and hit the ground in a million pieces upon being frozen. Jack turned to do the same to Pitch, but the wily shadow managed to break free and duck before disappearing.

Jack cast about, trying to figure out where the Nightmare King had gotten too, when he was suddenly blinding by a ray of sunlight bursting through the clouds. Jack shaded his hands and looked up, only to grin when he saw Sandy's cloud descending.

"You did it? You did it! Whoo!" Jack shouted, waving his staff and doing a little jig in midair. North's laugh boomed across the intervening space and Jane, who was looking much better even if she was clinging to North for support, smiled a beautiful smile. It was Sandy who asked where Pitch was.

"I don't know. He took off just before you showed up and it looks like any surviving shadows did too. Think he realized we beat him?"

Sandy shrugged before giving a tentative nod.

"But even if he hasn't, things are in our favor now. Jane's alive and not going to die any time soon, I've got access to my power back, and Sandy and I made an oath where he'll protect me if I can't take care of something myself."

"I as well, Jack," North said, laying a hand on the smaller spirit's shoulder. "You are family now, and I protect my family. Just call for me if you should ever need me and I will be there. You have my word."

"Yeah, well, likewise. But you better take proper care of my little sister."

"Da! Da! I would not want to be getting on bad side of Winter," North agreed. No one noticed the red thread slide into place and wouldn't until later. North was too busy gathering up his new bride and brother-in-law and proclaiming, "Now feast! Wedding feast! Come, we have much to celebrate!"

And in the distance, a skulking shadow watched the procession as it went back inside the Workshop.

"Humph. They think they've _won_ but all they've done is slow down the inevitable. No, just make a few adjustments, everything will still go according to plan." Then Pitch looked up at the sky, catching a glimpse of the waning Moon, and said, "I can afford to wait. Can you?"

* * *

**Notes:** Sharp readers will notice North's binding vow is similar to Sandy's. Differences are, it was accidentally made (but no less sincere on the part of either participant) and requires an extra step. Sandy's oath will lead him to Jack whenever Jack's in trouble, whether Jack asks for help or not. North's won't come into effect unless Jack calls for him. Hence what happened in the first two chapters. Sandy immediately knew there was trouble the moment Pitch started messing with the bindings (and was the source of alarm Jack felt). North could feel the bindings being messed with but, not being called upon, wasn't sure what was going on beyond an uneasy feeling and the knowledge he might have to grab his swords and go deal with it. Except it was dealt with before it reached that point, leaving him with the memory of an unsettled feeling and no knowledge of why.

As for the people who suspected why the marriage was hasty, well, there's only so many reasons why someone would need to marry in such a rush they couldn't even inform friends capable of nearly instantaneous travel, and Jane eliminated one of them right off the bat back in chapter two.

And for why I didn't show the last of the marriage... well, some things about star-binding are kept secret for a reason.

Next chapter should bring the end of the story-within-a-story that's been going on and explain why Jane and North don't live together.


	17. Chapter 17: Loose Ends

Sorry this took so long but moving and unpacking took a large chunk out of my writing time and when I did finally have time, MiM decided to be chatty right in the middle of everything. Not that that's a bad thing, as you'll find out. It just means this turned out much longer than originally anticipated.

* * *

**_Chapter 17: Loose Ends_**

The wedding may have been extremely unconventional, but that didn't stop North and his crew from making the reception the biggest party they could manage. A huge space was cleared and then one side was lined with tables placed end to end before being covered with fine linens and finer tableware in silver and crystal and fine china done up in a lovely blue and white pattern that Jack immediately adored because it was like ice and snow in a solid, non-melting form. The tables were soon laden with a veritable feast. The food came and went in waves as the easier to make things made way for those that required more preparation and the yeti and elves and occasionally North and Jane brought their appetites to the table. The army of yeti alone could clear the table and probably would, except Jack could see they had the foresight to maintain watch and guard positions in case Pitch wasn't actually defeated. As such, they came and went as one group would eat their fill and then leave to relieve the others at their posts, who would then come to the table themselves. There was also an impressive flow of eggnog. Sandy had managed to drown himself in it before falling asleep. A yeti had pushed him into the corner where he could sleep undisturbed.

Those not eating and drinking were dancing cotillion, which was quite the sight, especially with North and Jane in the mix and the elves sometimes wandering underfoot. Like many fun things, Jack liked dancing and was quite good at it, being light on his feet, but, not wanting to get accidentally smashed by a yeti tripping on an elf, Jack was having more fun watching the mayhem than in taking part in it. That, and he kept wandering up to the musicians and staring in awe.

Jack had never seen anything like it, although he'd heard tales of fancy clocks that played music over in Europe. This was no clock, though. This was a small orchestra made entirely of mechanical men holding equally mechanical instruments that actually played while the mechanical men holding them made different facial expressions and body movements while playing. And they played more than one song, too! Jack was thoroughly enchanted, watching them play with a huge, wondrous smile on his face.

Whenever he grew bored, he'd wander back to the table and watch the dancers again while trying to find food that didn't display tell-tale gnaw marks from the elves. It was during one of these times that he'd managed to come over when a fresh batch of food had made its way safely out of the kitchen. Eager to get to the food before the elves and yeti had their way with it, Jack set down his staff to free both hands and stepped away only to stop short and everyone around him froze in alarm except for North and Jane, who quickly approaching him at the table.

Jack shuddered and said, "What the...? It felt like I melted or something for a second there."

"Jack," Jane managed, wide-eyed, "you went back to being human again. But I thought..." She trailed up and looked up at North, who stroked his beard near his mouth thoughtfully.

"Jack, pick up your staff," the large man suggested. Jack shrugged and set down his plate so he had a free hand to grasp the staff once more. It felt good, like a cool, refreshing breeze on a hot summer day.

"And now you are looking like ice elf once more. Interesting."

"So... I still have a human form. Is that really that surprising? I'm connected to Jane and our oath is still intact. I'll probably have one for as long as she lives, which is gonna be awhile, you know. I'm guessing the staff just lets me turn back into spirit form."

"But is not source of power. Is merely amplifier, is it not?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then how is it making you change?"

"Maybe it's just bringing out what's already there? Isn't that what a conduit does?" Jack suggested with a shrug.

"Or maybe it has to do with how Pitch bound you. He did demand the staff, after all," Jane replied.

"We will have to be studying this," North decided. "Later. Now, is party!"

The party started up again at that and went on through the night and well into the next day. Jack had to hand it to North – he certainly knew how to throw a party. And, later, they did experiment with the staff.

Despite poking and prodding and pouring over books of spells and even getting Ombric in on it, they couldn't figure out why Jack changed. The only thing they did know for certain was that when Jack was in contact with his staff – even through several layers of fabric, although Jack found the sensation vaguely uncomfortable – Jack was fully a spirit, including the invisibility and intangibility to non-believers and when Jack wasn't in contact with his staff, he was back in the human form he'd been stuck in for decades. His power was still there but it was just as difficult to draw in human form as it had always been while using the staff was so easy and felt really natural to him.

Jack was also oddly attached to the staff. He'd felt pain when they'd tried removing a sliver of it to test, despite being in human form at the time, and had even started bleeding. Touching the staff had immediately stopped the bleeding and Jack had felt a pull to fix it, so he did. It had left North and Ombric staring at him in shock and awe and they insisted he'd started glowing when he'd been mending the staff. It was also agreed that damaging it was a bad, bad idea.

In the end, Ombric suggested that perhaps the staff was a totem of power, which Seasonals were known to carry to keep themselves from accidentally unleashing their powers on the world at large, except Jack's binding prevented that from happening in the first place. Since it was in essence a conduit, it was worthless to anyone aside from Jack, but, with so much raw power being built up by being stuck in human form, it was changing him so said power could come out at a slow, steady, and non-dangerous pace. Not having any better explanation, it was accepted as the most likely theory and the experimentation was dropped. And for awhile, that was everything.

* * *

December 21, 1805

The Lunar Lamadary was quite the sight. While the design was quite simple, it was also beautiful, filled with mosaics of opal and lapis lazuli and capturing the serenity of a moon-lit night. And that was just the courtyard, which had grand silvery doors leading to the Great Hall off to the side in the courtyard everyone was gathering in.

Jane was here for a special occasion, although she didn't yet know what was going to be special about it. While the Lunar Lamas were very vague to begin with, the one who'd dropped off the invitations had been exceedingly cryptic. Still, Jane and Jack had immediately accepted, having only heard of the place in stories, although Jane was disappointed when North turned it down with an impatient wave, citing the nearness to Christmas and having far too much to do to leave for anything short of an emergency. To be fair, he had a point. It was Winter Solstice, after all. Despite North turning down the invitation, the yeti chief and a small entourage – which included a handful of elves – had come with Jane and Jack to the Lunar Lamadary.

Several other guests were waiting in the courtyard by the time they arrived. The entirety of Santoff Claussen – first version – appeared to be there, including Ombric, Nightlight, Katherine (who, Jane observed, seemed to have finally settled down into adulthood now that she was making a name for herself as Mother Goose), and Kailash, as well as Sandy, a few Tooth Fairies there on behalf of their queen, and what Jane would later learn was the older Bunnymund. She ended up having a delightful conversation about chocolate in baked goods with the green robed pooka.

Jane had missed this, she realized, doing things other than baking, baking, baking. Oh, she loved baking, but it seemed like her days consisted of waking up early, baking all day,and then getting into bed in the early evening with only the random elf-caused mess to break up the monotony. She barely even saw her husband. He came to bed long after she fell asleep and she was always up long before him, used to years of early morning baking. They might catch a random luncheon or supper together, but that was it. The yeti were nice, but she still could only barely comprehend them. Also, since it had apparently been decided amongst them that she was in charge of the kitchens, they didn't tend to have long talks with their 'boss', at least not for the sake of conversation.

She was lonely, Jane realized with a start. Even Jack didn't spend much time at the Workshop. They'd found out the hard way that he had to spend at least a few hours each day in close proximity to her, but that tended to amount to sleeping in the next bedroom down. He spent most of the rest of his time wandering the globe and doing the job he'd always been supposed to perform as the Winter Spirit. Add in the fact Jane spent most of her time in the kitchens and the yeti were supremely efficient in keeping Jack out of them, and she saw her brother less often than her husband (although mostly she only saw North once a day when he was sleeping). Jane didn't begrudge Jack his freedom – not much, anyway – because he'd always been a free spirit and she'd always been aware of how much the bindings chaffed him.

And, well, the Workshop was North's. Even Jane's presence hadn't changed that. North and his magic permeated every inch of the place and Jane couldn't change that. Didn't want to, either. But it made it hard to find a space to truly call her own. Even the kitchens showed signs of North's decorating sense and magic and the yeti who helped her were loyal to him first.

The longer Jane interacted with the other guests, the more she realized how much she'd been overshadowed by her husband. To be fair, North was very impressive and imposing and Jane had let him overshadow her, thinking it was the place of the wife to stand behind her husband. But, the more she looked around and talked, the more she realized she wanted to stand as her own person. The non-spirits in the crowd, ie., the people of Santoff Claussen, asked after North first, her baking second, and that was it. The Tooth Fairies had barely glanced at her when Jack had introduced her as his sister before going back to swooning over her brother's teeth. If not for first Bunnymund, and then Sandy and later Ombric and Katherine holding actual conversations with her, Jane would have felt distinctly unwelcome. Considering half of the people who actually conversed with her were practically strangers (she had spent much more time talking to Ombric than to Katherine, who had often been off playing with Jack and Nightlight, during the short time they'd lived at Santoff Claussen), and the ones who weren't complete strangers still didn't have anything to talk to her about, it was a bit of an eye opener and one Jane would have to deal with. Later, because the reason they'd all been called was about to start.

The Great Hall was as simplistic and impressive as the courtyard, with a set of stairs leading up to a gorgeous gong decorated in pictures that, she realized with a start, showed how MiM came to be. There were images of Nightlight and Pitch and an impressive battle and everything. Jane was distracted from her perusal of the images when the Lunar Lamas started pulling people into some sort of processional line. She and Jack, to her surprise, were placed near the front, behind Nightlight, Ombric, Katherine and Kailash, and Bunnymund and just before Toothiana's emissaries and the yeti chief. Then, finally, everything hushed as the Lamas went into some sort of formation and started to speak in their odd, chant-like voices.

"Tonight is the night of the Winter Solstice," said one.

"The longest night of the year," said another.

"Usually the Moon watches over us," said a third.

"And protects us on dark nights," added a fourth.

"But tonight is the New Moon," intoned a fifth.

"The one night a month," began a sixth.

"Where the Man in the Moon rests," the seventh complete the sentence.

"But he has chosen instead to spend this long night with us," the eighth stated.

"The sun sets," they all said in unison.

Then the Head Lama came forward and rang the gong. The note was clear and high and the gong rippled oddly before clearing like a still pond and Jane gasped when she realized she could see someone looking out of it. It was a round and friendly face topped by only a few strands of oddly twisty and gravity-defying hair. Then the person stepped forward and em_through_/em the mirror-gong. He was round and looked smaller than he actually was, but he was nicely dressed in white silk designed in the latest European fashion, and he looked absolutely delighted to see the awestruck crowd. In fact, the crowd hadn't even dared breathe the moment they realized what was happening, except for Nightlight, who was already moving. The spectral boy soon had his arms wrapped around MiM in an exuberant hug that was joyfully returned.

"Ah, Nightlight! How are you, my old friend! And how wonderful it is to finally meet you all face-to-face instead of seeing you only from afar! Come, we have all night, but lets start with introductions, shall we!"

The "introductions", which they really weren't as all parties involved already knew who the other was, took an hour, but the brief time with MiM was like a whirlwind.

"Ah! My Moon Witch! How are things for you? You don't come outside at night nearly enough! Here, do me a favor and read as much of this as you can while you wait for the boring part to get over with. There's a few spells in there I absolutely must teach you!" MiM pulled out a small little book bound in white leather and pressed it into Jane's hands before moving on to her brother.

"Jack! Best decision I ever made, choosing you! I really wish the Moon wasn't so far away because we have so much we need to talk about. Also, you, me, and Nightlight em_must_/em pull a prank tonight! No excuses! I insist!"

"Uh, okay," Jack agreed, blinking rapidly in that way he had when he was taken aback. Then MiM was on to the next in line.

"Your queen couldn't make it? I'm sorry to hear that. You will send her my regards, won't you?" Jane heard MiM say as she and Jack were led away by several Lamas to what looked like a banquet hall, completed with a feast laid out on various tables scattered through the huge room. Left with nothing else to do, Jane took her book and found a seat at one of the tables, because her marriage had not changed the fact that she was old. Jack read over her shoulder as she looked through the little book that was, nevertheless, filled with numerous Moon Magic spells and rituals. There were instructions for how to create a silver bell that could be heard by anyone the ringer wanted to be able to hear it, a spell to heal small wounds, a spell to take away aches and pains – which Jane quickly memorized – and a way to create a witchlight that would mimic a moonbeam's glow that Jane ended up trying out. She'd just succeeded in creating a little glowing ball, like a miniature moon, and getting it to float a few inches above her hand when someone suddenly loomed over her, breaking her concentration and startling her out of the joy of success.

The room had filled without her even noticing, she'd been so absorbed, and MiM was the one standing above her, although he quickly sat and begged, "Please don't stop on my account! I'm so pleased to see you picking up that spell so fast!"

He was so exuberant that it was hard not to smile at him, so she didn't try and giggled instead.

"Thank you. And thank you for the book. When will you be wanting it back?"

"Oh, it's yours to keep! But first, quick! Turn to page nine! Jack, my boy, don't go anywhere! We'll need you for this!"

Jane blinked in surprise, as MiM was all but flailing in his eagerness, but she did as told, frowning when she came to the page because she was certain she hadn't seen the page in her first perusal of the book. It was instructions on how to make a Moon Crystal.

"As you can see, we first need a crystal of the proper shape. The good thing is, any proper clear crystal will work, including ice. Jack, can you make a clear crystal about the size of my fist shaped like... like this?" MiM asked, fumbling slightly before he dipped his hand into a dish containing some sort of meat in red sauce and using the sauce to fingerpaint the crystal's shape on the crisp, white tablecloth.

"Yeah, sure, but it'll take awhile," Jack agreed before his brow furrowed in concentration. The ice formed slowly, because even Jack couldn't prevent ice from clouding if it froze too fast, and Jane alternated between watching her brother work, eating some of the strange but delicious food on the table, and watching MiM's lively form make it's way around the room with the bouncy, energetic vigor of a small and easily entertained child. She also watched some Lunar Lamas switch out the table linens and carry away the sauce-stained cloth MiM had drawn on as if it was a holy relic worthy of extreme reverence. Perhaps it was to them. They likely would have done the same with the dish of meat in red sauce if the elves hadn't gotten to it first.

MiM eventually finished his round of the room and ended up back with them just as Jack finally finished making a perfectly flawless and clear crystal of shaped ice. MiM bounced and cheered at the sight of it.

"Oh, wonderful! Absolutely splendid! Come, we must be outside for the next bit!" MiM led them out to the courtyard, the Lamas keeping any curious guests from following. The Head Lunar Lama approached with a box full of bright white chalk, bowed as he presented it to MiM – who took it with a quick word of thanks – before he bowed again, much deeper, and walked away backwards while still bent over. MiM didn't seem to even notice the obsequious way the Lunar Lamas responded to him, too busy drawing circles on the courtyard's stone floor. No, not circles, moons. Full moons and new moons and crescent moons at all stages of waxing and waning and all connected in a beautiful pattern. Once he'd finished the lovely if complicated looking form, MiM waved Jack forward and had him place the crystal in the clear space MiM had left in the middle.

"Now, Jane, back on page nine you should see a spell. Perform it for me, please."

"Yes," Jane agreed before she concentrated on the words in the book and the magic she needed to shape. It came easily enough, but it was draining and by the time Jane finished, she was swaying on her feet. Jack quickly led her to a bench while MiM bent down and picked up the crystal. He closed his eyes briefly, obviously concentrating, and the softly glowing crystal flashed before calming down into a clear crystal with a bluish-white tinge.

"Here you are. Now you both will be able to communicate with me properly, even after I'm on the moon once more," MiM stated as he gently placed the crystal in Jane's hands where they sat in her lap. She clutched the Moon Crystal she'd helped make and looked up at his gently smiling face with a sense of awe.

"Hey, I'm going to run for a bit. Will you be okay?" Jack said, gesturing to where Nightlight was waving at them from a window.

"Oh, yes. Go have fun," Jane said.

"Yes, indeed! I will catch up with you later about that prank!" MiM agreed before turning from Jack's fleeing form to Jane and asking, "How is your marriage doing?"

"Honestly, I don't know," Jane said, not willing to lie to the being sitting beside her. "I'm very fond of North and I'm certain he's fond of me in return, but I feel... I don't know, taken for granted? I was always taught that a wife is supposed to support her husband, but I'd rather it was more equal and he'd support me as well."

"Well, of course it's supposed to be equal!" MiM agreed, "And I must admit I'm rather glad to hear this."

"Glad?!"

"Oh, that was probably a poor word choice, my apologies, but what I mean is you probably won't have any issues with what I'm about to request of you," MiM quickly explained. "Pitch Black has an entrance to his lair near where your village used to be."

"Used to be?" Jane interrupted.

"Disease, less than a decade after your family left. I've tried to keep the area from being settled ever since. I've actually asked Mother Nature to make certain of that. She always gives the area a nasty winter whenever someone tries settling there."

"What? Why?" Jane asked, utterly confused.

"Because of the entrance to Pitch's lair," MiM replied, looking surprised she wasn't following. "Such a thing can make a place dark indeed. The other places around the world are avoided as "cursed", as well they should be, but this one's in a rather pretty area."

"But I remember my village being quite nice when I was growing up."

"Yes, indeed it was. Because it had a protector that kept Pitch's Fear from taking hold, at least until Pitch went after the said protector." At Jane's confused frown, MiM smiled and explained, "Your brother. It's what first caught my attention, his ability to make people laugh in the face of fear, his sense of fun. It was practically magical. I had thought he would be like North and Katherine and become a spirit slowly until the incident with the pond. Ultimately, the only being who could truly escape such a fate as his unharmed was a spirit of ice, so I begged Mother Nature to let me choose her next Spirit of Winter and used a fusion of her borrowed power and mine to bring him back from the edge. I had nothing to do with his powers of Joy and Fun. Those are inherent and always were, just becoming more so now that he is a Spirit.

"I'm ashamed that I didn't catch your own potential until Pitch interfered. Do you know what a Constellation is?"

Jane fumbled for an answer, taken unprepared by the non sequitur. "I think Ombric mentioned them before. Didn't they used to rule the universe during the Golden Age. In fact, aren't you one?"

MiM beamed at her happily.

"Indeed I am, possibly the last. No one knows if there were other survivors. I can't even remember the end of the Golden Age, really. I was but a babe at the time Pitch tried destroying everything with Fear. Properly, I'm the last Tsar of the House of Luna, not that there's actually a house or anything to be Tsar of, but my parents made sure I'd be properly educated, even after they passed. And one of the more interesting things is that Constellations would look for those with natural power, like you and Jack and North and Katherine – yes, you. I don't know what your power was before, but when you touched mine, you took a part of it and made it distinctly your own and you've been making it grow exponentially ever since and it's far past time I taught you how to properly harness it, but anyway, where was I? Ah – people like you would be found and added to the Houses, often as lesser nobles but with the potential to marry up the ranks, as it were, and combine their powers with the Constellations or even become Constellations themselves if they possessed power enough.

"Seeing so many with potential here on Earth gave me hope I could some day rebuild the Constellations and bring the peace and prosperity they represented forth once more. I will likely be the last of the House of Luna, unless I find someone to name as an heir, but if the others can be brought back or created anew, it will be worth it. I had such high hopes Jack might be the first. Don't get me wrong, he's the best Spirit of Winter I've ever seen and, well, becoming a Spirit was often the grand goal of many a Constellation. To live forever protecting the very thing you stand for as long as the people you protect believe in you? What a grand thing indeed! But it wasn't what I'd initially hoped for him. You see, while a Constellation can become a Spirit – Mother Nature being a lovely example, as is her father in his own way – a Spirit cannot become a Constellation. It would be like asking a human to devolve into a worm. Something about immortality versus long-lived and the way the magic flows. All too technical for my tastes, really.

"You, on the other hand, are not a spirit and still contain that potential," MiM finished, giving Jane a very serious look.

"You want me to become a Constellation?" she asked, shocked.

"Eventually, and only if you want to, of course. And you'd first have to learn to consciously use the powers you've been unconsciously using for years."

"I don't understand. How am I using my powers? I mean, you sound like I've been using them beyond that light spell I picked up through trial and error."

"You have been! Although I'm not surprised you haven't noticed the sense of love and comfort you've been imbuing into the food you create, it's such a subtle use of power. Between that and Jack spreading his Joy and Fun, I suspect you two are the reason the American's war for independence didn't take off until after North pulled you off the continent via snow globe. Even then, it still took a few years to shake off your influence enough to actually risk war. That's actually why I want you to go back to the site of your old village."

Jane blinked. "Pardon, what?"

"Whether or not you choose to eventually become a Constellation – although I do hope you'll say yes – that area needs a protector, especially since a family has since braved the worst winter Mother Nature had thrown that area and brought in more settlers. There's a small village there now, called Burgess after that first family, and the children are already suffering from Nightmares. You alone would probably be enough, although the binding means Jack will be along as well and this new village, this Burgess, will have twice the protection. What say you? Will you help me stop Pitch from terrorizing a small village and using its Fear to bring him power?"

"I... Yes, of course. But I'd need to speak with Jack about it first since it will affect him as well," Jane agreed, the idea she might need to consult North not even occurring to her.

"I'll do that. Let me just liberate the paint samples I asked Bunnymund to bring and I'll find where your brother and Nightlight got off to."

"You could just ask the Lamas where they are," Jane pointed out. MiM got an oddly pained look on his face.

"No, thank you. Lovely people, they are, but, honestly, a bit too... focused," he said and Jane gave him a sympathetic smile when she realized that MiM had been ignoring the Lunar Lamas out of self preservation. "In the mean time, study the book. It will show more spells as you need them or are ready to learn them, and use the crystal we made to keep in touch. I'll talk to you later tonight after I've talked with Jack."

Jack had apparently agreed once MiM got around to explaining things because the first thing he asked when he found Jane after several Lunar Lamas and their guests became mysteriously covered in various shades of paint was, "We're going home?" with a hopeful look on his face.

"If you'd like?" Jane more asked than stated. Jack nodded.

"North is great, but the Workshop is... suffocating. I don't even think it's on purpose, but it feels like his magic's swamping down on mine and... and trying to prove itself bigger or something. You know, like how animals try and establish a pecking order? I mean, it's great for short visits, but it gets kind of overwhelming after awhile and keeps grating on my nerves."

"Mine too," Jane admitted with a nod. Jack winced.

"If I'd known that, I would've dragged you out with me."

"Imp! I'm far too old to be flying about! Besides, it wouldn't be proper for me to float about someone's head and give them an eyeful of what's up my skirts," Jane stated primly, although she knew Jack had caught that she was teasing by his wicked grin.

"Well, we can't be having with that. What would people say?" he teased back. "And you a married woman, too!"

"Oh! That's right, we'll have to tell North." Jane winced before adding, "Hopefully, he'll give permission."

"If he thinks you need his permission, he's not worthy of you," Jack replied. "Besides, he wouldn't dare stop you once he hears MiM's sending us."

* * *

It didn't even occur to North that permission was a thing. He'd assumed Jane was fully capable of making her own decisions and had also thought she was happy at the Workshop. He was upset when he found out she wasn't – although Jane did try to break it gently – and was more than willing to let her leave and find a place of her own, and very happy when she and Jack admitted that MiM had given them the task to live in the new village where their old one once stood. They had to wait until Spring before setting out, so as not to appear suspicious to the people they were to protect, but that gave them time to pack – and to convince North that, no, they didn't need quite that much furniture.

"Of course I will be stopping by on Christmas Eve and then again on Christmas Day after all presents are delivered. Also, I will be visiting on Valentine's Day. Have entire day to celebrate marriage. Perhaps win you over properly, no?" North suggested with a wink and a twinkle in his blue eyes as he shouldered Jane's clothes chest. He talked about grand plans of sending yeti to build their new house even as he carried the chest out to where the yeti had built a grand wagon and were even now filling it with furniture and gifts in addition to all of Jack and Jane's things.

"I'm beginning to wonder if anything's going to be strong enough to pull this," Jack whispered to her as he eyed the huge mountain of things they were being sent off with.

"Ah, is magic! Light as feather! But will send off with several oxen. Good for milk and butter. Only the best for my wife!"

"Thank you, North. It's all very sweet of you, but you do know the yeti can't build our house, don't you? The townsfolk will wonder."

"Bah, I just send at night."

"I think they'll notice a house being built overnight, North," Jack pointed out.

"At least let me send plans for house!"

"Knowing you, it would be a mansion," Jack deadpanned even as he raised an eyebrow at the larger man.

"And I think I'd prefer designing my own house," Jane added firmly before giving him a sweet smile, "But thank you for the thought." She gave him a kiss goodbye and smiled at him. Still strong and broad and handsome in her eyes, but he'd put on some weight thanks to her cooking and his hair had turned white at the temples and white streaks ran in his increasingly long beard. She would miss him, but then she'd been missing him for at least a decade.  
The siblings eventually escaped before North could pile on much more – as it was, there was more than enough – and used a snow globe to set themselves down about a week's travel from their destination so they'd be appropriately dirt-stained and travel-weary once they arrived. No point in frightening a bunch of villagers potentially beset by Fear by appearing abnormal. It was... familiar, and the overstuffed wagon was surprisingly comfortable, all things considered. She suspected Nicholas had put some sort of cushioning charm on the driver's seat. And they reached their destination about a day earlier than they'd planned because the oxen did act like the cart was far lighter than it should be. At least the townsfolk wouldn't know that.

The townsfolk were actually fairly welcoming. The village, for all that it had existed for a mere decade, was still growing and it wasn't unusual for new people to roll in by wagon. As it was, it looked like it would soon pass village and become a true town in the near future.

"So where you folks from?" the town head, Thaddeus Burgess himself, asked.

"Oh, all over the place. My parents had a bit of wanderlust and my husband even more so, bless him, but I remember spending quite a few years in this area during my childhood. My older brother and I used to skate on the pond in the winter and play hopscotch in the square in the summer," Jane fondly reminisced out loud. Thaddeus's eyebrows rose.

"You're from the first village?"

"First village? I know things look different, but then it's been so very long..." Jane hinted.

"My wife and children and I were the only people here when we first settled, but we found the remains of some old buildings and a graveyard 'bout a decade back. Can't really read the dates and half the ones you can read, they didn't put down a year, but it looked like a bunch of people died all at once. The remainder must of scattered. You're family one of them?"

"I don't think so. We left after my brother drowned in the pond. Thin ice."

"Ah." Thaddeus nodded in understanding. A family with wanderlust in their blood and a tragedy to make them inclined to move made sense after all. Then he gazed at their wagon in consternation. "Got a lot of stuff, have you?"

"My husband was quite the carpenter and I just couldn't bare to leave it all behind. Just as well I have Jack here to help me," Jane replied.

"Right. Got any skills?"

"I've owned and ran several bakeries in my day, and my husband assured me quite often I never lost my touch," Jane stated proudly.

"Well, I reckon the town could use a good baker. Lord knows my Mary's better at gardening than baking. I'd be willing to lend a hand, and I know others will as well, in exchange for some nice loaves of bread."

"I think I could make that deal."

The first house was a simple affair of logs except for the one wall taken up by the stone fireplace. It wasn't ideal, but beggars couldn't be choosers and it had been kindly built by the local men in exchange for little more than several loaves of bread, which were easy enough considering Nicholas had packed plenty of flour, sugar, spices, and other baking sundries for Jane's use, plus they had plenty of milk and butter thanks to the oxen, which left just eggs and the chickens necessary for that were easily traded for. If it weren't for the fact that the fireplace and all Jane's baking kept the little one-room cabin far too hot for Jack, it wouldn't have been so bad. Jane had ended up dragging Jack outside more than once in the early morning in the dead of winter to wake him.

Jack ended up spending quite a lot of time outside, and much of that in spirit form. One of the youngest Burgess children saw him change as a result and quickly told the other village children. This resulted in a group of them waylaying him soon after.

"Patrick says he saw you turn into an angel and fly away," Patrick's older sister Charlotte – or Lottie as she was better known – stated before demanding, "Show us," in a threatening tone, complete with cracked knuckles. (Much, much later both Jack and Jane would be both amused and alarmed at how much Cupcake took after her ancestress.) Jack, who had just finished the milking, paused and then shrugged.

"Alright. This way." Jack led the way inside, followed by a parade of children and feeling much like a benign version of the Pied Piper of Hamelin. He set down the pails of milk, snatched up his staff, and settled on top of it in time to grin in amusement at their faces.

"Hello. My name's Jack Frost. What's yours?" It would be the beginning of many beautiful friendships.

Later there would be additions to the first house and then, decades later, an all new one on the edge of the forest leading to Jack's Pond, done up in the new Victorian style with a bakery in the bottom and proper rooms up top, including rooms Jack could feel semi-comfortable in (and then all the way comfortable after air conditioning was invented). It would go through several renovations over the next century and a half, but it was home. And together, the two siblings protected Burgess.

* * *

"That's why you didn't tell us, isn't it? You thought we already knew," Tooth stated quietly as the story came to an end.

"Well, yes. Jane mentioned meeting little Tooth Fairies, so you are being covered. And I am rarely to be seeing you outside of Guardian business. Also, while is obvious it was older Bunny she is meeting, Bunny is leaving notes to himself all the time," North agreed.

Aster groaned because of course. He'd get so lost in inventing or making chocolate or painting eggs that he'd lose track of time, which was a big deal for him because pooka instinctively didn't view time as a straight line. Compared to Sandy's simplistic views of time, Aster's were somewhat... complicated, but it basically boiled down that Aster could be at any time in his lifespan at any point he wanted so long as he wasn't already there. This obviously confused everyone living in linear time, so, at some point in time, Aster had gotten into the habit of leaving himself notes about what was happening at this particular point in time so his younger self could jump right in or to remind his older self what was going on. This only worked if he wrote it down, though.

Aster's older self had obviously known about Jack and Jane so North, aware of the notes, wouldn't have known Aster's current self didn't know. And the older Aster hadn't thought it pertinent to mention in a note. Sometimes Aster wondered about his future self because times like this made him seem like a right bastard.

Tooth herself winced at the reminder of how little she got out, even on Guardian business. And it was business. She couldn't recall the last time she'd asked how the others were doing. And she did remember the report she was given about that ceremony. She regretted not going once she'd become aware that MiM himself had come down from the Moon to visit, but she also understood why the Lamas had been cryptic about it. It wouldn't do for just anyone to know what was going on, not when it could be used against MiM. Aside from MiM, her fairies had chattered long and hard about the teeth of one Jack Frost, but she didn't think they'd even mentioned he had a sister. She wondered if they'd even registered that Jane was there.

"I can't believe I didn't know. My fairies didn't even mention it," she lamented quietly.

"Well, you know now, right? That's the important part," Jane offered, obviously trying to cheer her up.

"What happened to the Moon Crystal," Aster asked to break the uncomfortable silence as it started to settle.

"Oh, it's in the garden!" Jane stated blithely.

"You have a Moon Crystal just sitting in your garden unguarded?"

"I have protective wards around it, and Nicholas added a few of his own as well. Besides, it looks like a standard lawn ornament unless you already know what it is," Jane replied, unconcerned before she stood and started cleaning.

"I don't know about you lot, but it's late and I have to be up early to start the baking. Nicholas, dear, do stop by sometime soon to make up for today."

"Yes, of course! We will have marital relations in nice sunny area!" North agreed.

Aster, with a pained expression, managed to say, "Way too much information, mate."

"I never thought I'd ever say this, but I have to agree with the kangaroo on this one," Jack stated with a delicate shudder.

"What did you just call me?!"

* * *

"Time is running short," Pitch muttered to himself in his lair, ignoring the circling Nightmares, "but at least now I know for certain the gold thread is Sanderson."

He unraveled a Nightmare that wandered too close and made a little black sand figurine that looked an awful lot like Sandy.

"And the best way to undo a star-binding?" Pitch asked before he closed his fist around the tiny Sandman figure and crushed it. "Eliminate the star."

* * *

**Notes:** In the 9th century, the Banū Mūsā brothers created the first mechanical musical instruments. Unreliable sources claim they went so far as to create an entire mechanical band that even displayed facial expressions while playing, which is impressive considering programmable machines like automata are the basis of modern-day computers and robotics. They made a point in writing down their work in several books which – let's face it – means Ombric would so have copies, and is actually what all subsequent work in automata is built upon. Automata would once again become popular in the 1700s, resulting in an impressive array of clockwork machines including, most famously, the cuckoo clock. In the books, North displays his abilities by combining automata with magic to create a magical robot. Given the time and gumption – both things he has in spades – he could easily do what the Banū Mūsā brothers were only claimed to have accomplished and make an actual mechanical orchestra, complete with facial expressions. And he might as well, considering his obvious love for music in the movie and the fact gramophones are still about a hundred years out from being invented in the flashback's time frame.

As for the dancing, cotillion dancing (as it was called the United States – both before and after the Revolution – and in Great Britain) was very popular. It involves several people paired up and moving in time with each other. I recommend looking it up on YouTube and watching. Then try picturing it being done by yeti with North and Jane lost in the mix. Then I dare you not to laugh.

Blue Willow China became very popular in it's advent in the 1780-1790s (no one can agree who invented it or when precisely it appeared) which makes it showing up here an anachronism except no one knows who invented it or when it precisely appeared so let's just say some of the yeti decided to get creative and later sold it for the money needed to run the Workshop.

The name Mother Goose would first be used by Charles Perrault of back in 1695 as a subtitle on one of his books of fairy tales. Mother Goose wouldn't be associated with poetry or nursery rhymes until 1781. Considering Katherine's obviously writing the rhymes in the books, I decided to have the later date as Katherine's publishing date and her basically "borrowing" the title from Perrault because she thought it was amusingly accurate.

Also, I kinda picture Jack and Jane's house looking kind of like the Hardwick House Estate (I'd show you a picture, but ff.n has apparently blocked the name of the popular encyclopedia site from even showing, no matter how I type it. An image search should bring it up). However, houses wouldn't start looking like that until about the mid-1800s, hence the cabin first.

Finally, you should look up Gallifreyan if you want a general idea of what MiM's chalk drawing looked like.


	18. Chapter 18: Plots and Plans

**Notes: **Sorry about the long wait, but I had to meet a deadline on my original fiction and, well, the stuff that pays the bills comes first.

_**Warnings:**_ I'm about to get into my version of the movie and, well, nothing will be worse than what's in the movie or the fairy tale I'm drawing on for the plot. That should give you a pretty big clue as to what to expect warnings wise, especially concerning survival rates.

* * *

**Chapter 18: Plots And Plans**

"What are they teaching you people?" Jack asked, scoffing at the history book Danny had left laying out on the counter so he could do homework between helping customers. There were always periods of absolute dullness between when Danny got off school and when the adults got off of their nine-to-five jobs, although that time had since passed and Danny was cleaning up in preparation to close the shop. It was September and still too warm for even the barest of frosts except on the highest mountains but the Southern Hemisphere was well under the sway of Spring, which meant it was one of the two times of year where Jack was bored, antsy, and tended to sneak in to the kitchen and otherwise bother Jane's staff.

Danny looked up from where was finishing sweeping the floor to where Jack was frowning over the textbook. He'd been sitting there practically since floating in minutes earlier, aside from the attempt at entering the kitchen that Danny had thwarted. Danny had to take American History this year and the history teacher was new in town. There was already talk of him having troubles in other classes for getting things wrong. Danny suspected he was looking at the reason why.

"What's wrong with it?" he casually asked, curious.

"Well, for one, most of the stuff in here about the First Nations is all wrong. Pfft. Mystery of Roanoke? There's no mystery there. The colonists discovered the natives on the next island over were friendly, had a better government, were better established, and were much better looking than they were and that, for some reason, they didn't mind intermarrying with the colonists so long as they washed up and behaved themselves."

"Is that it?" Danny asked, although he was amused and intrigued in spite of himself.

"Hell no. You know that big gap in time between when it was supposedly found and settled? It's because the natives kept kicking the Europeans off the continent the same way they did with the Vikings ages earlier. Jamestown succeeded because they essentially sold themselves off as slaves to the locals and Plymouth only worked because of the minor Apocalypse."

"Wait, what?! Apocalypse?"

"Some plague killed off about ninety percent of the population of the Americas a few years before the pilgrims got here. Everyone knew that in my time. It's why so many tribes were welcoming to the settlers initially. They thought the settlers would be a great way to repopulate and, well, we were. The reason my parents settled down here is because it was one of the places with a treaty being currently upheld and didn't have a wall to keep the settlers from wandering off to join the natives. In fact, if I remember correctly, that's what happened to Mum and Dad's siblings. Religion and the government was really the only thing that kept the European settlers from just leaving and going native. I'm pretty certain the reason why Pastor Smith was so harsh on me was because he was worried I'd go and follow the next native traders that went through the village."

"Really? Wow."

"I know, right? And even with the natives basically having gone all Mad Max, they still almost won. This, here, is a load of whitewashed crap," Jack said, thumping the book. "Come to me, and I'll tell you what really happened, okay?"

"Yeah, sure!" Danny readily agreed. He wondered if he could give his new teacher a heart-attack by putting a first person account as one of his resources. Probably be a good idea to back it up with some other resources too, though, or he might get in trouble... Danny scowled when he realized Jack had taken advantage of his distraction to slip into the kitchen.

The boy bolted for the dividing doors and burst through just in time to see Jack drop a piece of ice down the back of Jane's dress. She dropped the pan she'd been washing as she let out a startled holler and did a little dance until she got the ice out before yelling, "IMP! Get back here!" Then she chased a laughing Jack out of not only the kitchen but the bakery as well and out into the garden.

* * *

The garden of the Frosted Cookie Bakery was well recognized as one of the best, if not the best, in Burgess. Starting with neatly tended beds next to the outer walls and along the paths leading to the door, the look grew wilder and wilder until the wanderer realized they'd left the garden proper some way back and were now in the forest. Honestly, the only way someone could make certain they were in the garden was by the balls. Lawn orbs, garden globes, and witch balls dotted the landscape and it was a bit of a game for the local children to get lost in the maze the garden formed, trying to locate them all.

Jane was quite pleased with the effect. The witch balls, little glass balls of blue and green and shades in-between with curving strands inside, were an old superstition, said to ward off evil spirits. Which they did, if they'd been blessed by a witch. Jane used them to help with her wards, hanging them at the boundaries and reinforcing the weak points created by doors, windows, and the chimney. The others didn't show what they were capable of unless Jane raised the wards to full power to keep out even a brief glance and let her power wash over them. The globe that seemed made of wire with an arrow stabbed through it would start moving in erratic patterns, pointing out whatever Jane wanted found, a round mosaic representing the Earth would suddenly be washed over with millions of little lights, and a twisted wire orb with a second, smaller orb suspended inside, would twist and sway as the Wind idly played with it while Jack made his rounds.

At the center of the garden was the _p__ièce de résistance_, an elegant white marble plinth upon which rested what looked like a soap bubble – a clear orb with a subtle rainbow shine that, oddly, became more pronounced in moonlight. However, if approached quite closely, it became clear that the orb wasn't transparent but actually a fine mirror. There was a shaft of moonlight shining rather pointedly on this particular orb when Jane chased Jack out of the bakery.

Jane huffed and stuck her head in the back door long enough to shout, "Danny, close up for me, will you? Just lock the front door on your way out. And stick to the walk!"

"Yes, Ms. Jane!"

With that taken care of, Jane gave her brother a huffy glare and stated, "There has got to be a better way to tell me Manny wants to talk."

"Probably, but none half as fun," Jack replied with a smirk. Jane sighed and shook her head before shooing Jack away.

"Well, be off with you, unless you want to be stuck in the garden for however long this will take."

Jack was off like a shot, because these conversations could last hours if MiM felt like teaching. Once she felt him leave, Jane started upping the power to the wards, making sure as she did to leave a temporary one-way exit for Danny to leave by.

"Alright, that should do it," she decided once the wards were at full power. No prying eyes or evil spirits could get past the wards and any magical mishaps on her behalf wouldn't get out. Then she went to stand by the mother-of-pearl mirror shaped like an orb and gestured at it. As soon as she did, it split and fell open like a combination between a mechanical iris and blooming flower. Inside, where it had been hidden from view and warded by the orb itself, was the Moon Crystal Jack, Jane, and MiM had created around two centuries ago.

The Moon Crystal lit up as soon at the moonbeam hit it and Jane quickly started muttering spells so the three dimensional image being created would have subtle, subdued colors and sound. Because the crystal wasn't terribly large, the image was only about the span of one of North's hands, but it worked. Jane smiled at the little man who beamed at her from atop the crystal.

"Hello, Manny," she said. She, like North, had taken to calling MiM that to his face. It felt less informal and delighted MiM, who loved the idea of having a nickname.

"Hello, my dear! It's so good to see you up close! I saw you've mastered that last spell I taught you!"

"Yes, I did, thank you!" Jane replied cheerfully.

"Excellent! Most excellent! I have so much more I want to teach you!" The little figure bounced before suddenly stilling. "The thing is, I can't teach you any more, not with the way things stand."

"What do you mean?" Jane asked with a slight frown.

"I mean, that if you want to learn more, things will have to change. Your potential is realized, Jane. You're a step away from being a Constellation. With one more thing mastered, you em_will be_/em a Constellation. The first thing you must do is ask yourself if being a Constellation is what you truly wish to be. You don't have to decide right now. You still have some time. The second thing, especially if you choose to continue down this path, is breaking the oaths binding Jack."

"What? But, I thought... the balance..."

"You have managed to maintain a very delicate balance and it's kept you and Jack safe for over two hundred years. But it won't work if you decided to take the next step. You see, the last few things you have to learn, are best learned up here."

"The Moon?! I'd have to go up to the Moon?"

"Not permanently, not unless you choose to stay, but for a time, yes. I'd prefer Jack stayed on Earth where he can protect the world in general and Burgess in particular; that, and I don't think he'd particularly like being stuck on the Moon for however long your lessons would take."

"Probably not," Jane agreed with a wry grin.

"I'd like to make him a Guardian. But those oaths have to go first, especially the ones involving you and Pitch. It wouldn't be good for anyone to have the ability to control a Guardian."

"No, I suppose it wouldn't. But we still haven't figured out a way to break it yet."

"Well, time to pool resources again. And you have a few months. You don't even have to give me a yea or nay about becoming a Constellation until I come down for a visit on the Winter Equinox."

Jane blinked rapidly even as her eyebrows rose and she asked, incredulously, "You're coming down here?"

MiM nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh, yes! I like coming down about once a century when the New Moon and Winter Solstice coincide. That party had been wonderful and I rather wish I'd repeated it the last time I came down. Ah, well, it's not worth complaining over. I'm thinking a small party this year. Nothing as grand as that one. Just a few people. You and Jack are invited, of course, and North as well. It's a shame Mother Nature's always busy on the solstice, so she won't be able to come. I'll have to drop in on her like I normally do."

"You regularly drop in on Mother Nature?"

"Of course! Why did you think her meetings are when the full moon is on a winter solstice?" MiM asked, apparently not getting why Jane was surprised.

"At any rate," he added, "You have until then to make your decision. And to get your affairs in order if you decide you want to become a Constellation."

Jane nodded.

"Alright. Thank you."

The Moon Crystal dimmed and Jane stood there silently for awhile, staring unseeing at the garden she took so much pride in. A Constellation! Honestly, becoming one had been her goal for quite some time now, but now that it was time to make the final steps, Jane wasn't sure she could. Oh, being up on the Moon would be temporary, she knew, but leaving behind the home she'd made here for the past two centuries wouldn't be easy. Nor would breaking Jack's bindings. Jane sighed and then rolled up her sleeves. She had work to do.

And outside the wards, looking in where she'd purposely left them weak for Danny, a dark shape fled.

* * *

Down in a dark place, a Nightmare ran up to it's Master, eager to share the information it had managed to glean. The wards around the garden might have kept it from interfering, causing any mayhem, or even seeing what was happening but it hadn't stopped it from _hearing_. It's Master was pleased, his sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light and his laughter echoing in the dark chambers.

"Finally! Time to put my plans into motion."

* * *

The meetings had gone down from once a week to once a month as the seasons changed. There was still an alarming number of nightmares running about, something that worried Sandy because they were made out of corrupted dreamsand, but the few they actually encountered fled at the sight of any Guardian and Pitch had yet to be seen since his attack on Jack last Winter. If it weren't for Tooth's fairies reporting that they were still seeing the results of nightmares visiting their charges, it would be easy to assume nothing was going on at all. As it was...

"Your sheilas still finding black sand, Tooth?" Aster asked as they settled on their last topic for their last meeting before Christmas, having previously been discussing Bunny needing to head down to Africa for a bit because another war had started and the children down there were in desperate need of Hope.

"Yes. It hasn't gotten any worse, but it hasn't gotten any better either," she replied with a sigh.

Waiting was always hard, especially when you were waiting for something bad to happen. Sandy wished they weren't stuck waiting, especially since Jane had said MiM wanted them to step up on finding a way to free Jack. Oh, idea! Unfortunately, before Sandy could explain his idea, the elves struck.

"Fa~a la la la, la la la la! Fa la la la la, la la la la! Fa~a la la la, la la la la! Fa la la la la-"

"NORTH!" Aster roared before spluttering to a halt and then whining, "Do they bloody have to sing carols? I've been hearing those songs for weeks now! I swear, if they don't quit with the unholy racket, I'm gonna go berko."

"But Bunny, is Christmas!"

"Not for two weeks, it ain't!"

"Bah! You are just jealous there is being no Easter songs."

"What? You... what?! There are too Easter songs! They're just... mostly liturgical," Aster stated sanctimoniously. North opened his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by a bell jangling. Everyone looked over at Sandy in time to see him drop the elf he'd just vigorously shaken – which proceeded to wander off in a grinning daze – and point at the sand image of a lightbulb over Sandy's head.

"You are having idea, Sandy? Let us hear it!"

It was a simple plan, but that didn't mean Sandy found it easy to explain. Once he had, North looked thoughtful, stroking his beard near his mouth.

"Hmm... What do you think, Tooth, Bunny?"

"I dunno. It's a big risk, mate. A lot of things could send it cock-eyed and then were would you be? Down the dunny, is what."

"It's bloody. I like it!" Tooth enthused.

"You would," Aster groused.

"Both good points, but I am liking that it would, what is saying? Ah, put ball in our net."

"Court, North. Ball in our court."

"That is making nonsense. Why is English so strange?"

Aster shrugged and said, "Beats me. Why's Russian so weird?"

"There is nothing 'weird' about my mother tongue!"

"Sandy, can you get started on your part?" Tooth quickly interjected before the two holiday mascots could get really going.

He already had, so Sandy nodded in enthusiasm.

"Great! I need to check in with my girls. Bunny, I think you mentioned wanting to check out the problem in Africa? Hop to it! North! You'd better let your wife know if she's going to be involved in this plan. Well, what are you waiting for? Move out!"

The others sprang into motion with a muttered, "Yes, ma'am," or closest equivalent thereof and left in a rush. Tooth sighed and put her hands on her hips.

"Seriously," she huffed, "Those guys have no sense of organization whatsoever."

* * *

There was a nightmare on his route. Sandy scowled and dove after it, determined to stop it. It flew down to the ground-level of a small, quiet town and, rather oddly, landed in the middle of the street. Suddenly feeling cautious, Sandy slowed his descent and started circle the corrupted dreamsand creature, not liking that it felt brave enough to stop running from him. It boded ill.

"There you are! Do you like her, Sanderson? Obsidian here is one of my more recent efforts."

Sandy glared as Pitch appeared in the nightmare's shadow, running his long, skeletal fingers through the nightmare's sandy mane.

"No?" Pitch said, looking hurt before he slyly smiled and added, "Perhaps you'll like these ones more." Then there were more nightmares slinking out of all of the shadows, and there were a multitude of shadows in this silent street.

Sandy hadn't even made a full turn before he realized he was surrounded. His face turned stern even as he created his whips and prepared to battle he way out. The nightmares came as a wave from all sides and Sandy quickly lost himself in the Now of the fight. The arrow came as a painful shock as it dug into his back. Sandy fumbled and then stumbled as it started corrupting the very sand that made his form. He glared at Pitch as he staggered back upright before, without an ounce of fear, he closed his eyes... _and dreamed._

* * *

**Notes:** Normally I reply directly to reviewers, but ff.n doesn't allow that with anonymous reviews. Anyway, this reviewer said that oxen are castrated male cattle and don't produce milk. That is false. Oxen are bovines that have been draft-trained (ie., trained to pull carts/wagons/plows). While oxen are _commonly_ castrated males (also known as steers) because they're the most docile without having to worry about pregnancy, bulls (intact males), and cows (adult females) can be and are also used and referred to as _oxen_. That being said, oxen who are cows are rare because the stress and energy involved in pulling things interferes with pregnancy and milk production. Because I was having them pull something magically light for a very short period of time, I figured I could get away with two draft-trained milk cows pulling double-duty as oxen instead of the standard two steers with the milk cow trailing from a lead behind.

Everything Jack says about American history is true. The First Nations are historical badasses. The Vikings, who were so tough they scared the rest of Europe and managed to carve out a colony on Greenland for centuries, attempted to create a colony in North America and got their asses handed to them. The First Nations continued kicking out Europeans up until the Europeans got the idea to try germ warfare. Not being used to European diseases and having no real defense against them, the diseases spread rapidly among the First Nations, far beyond what had initially been planned. Despite that or maybe even because of that, intermarriage between First Nation natives and Europeans was common except where laws set by local governments and churches expressly forbade "consorting with the heathens". Despite that, many colonies were small because they hemorrhaged people like crazy because people know a good deal when they see one and the First Nations had much better set-ups than the European-inspired colonies (and were considered prettier to boot). The reason no one talks about it? It's easier and less guilt inducing to say, "Oh, how odd that all these wild fruit trees are growing together" than admit you were taking over the land of someone who'd created an orchard that had run wild because they were dead.

Witch balls are a superstition that originated in places that considered witches to be a blessing. It was noted as existing in 18th century England and eventually coming over to America in the 19th. The balls were hung from mantels and rafters for protection from evil spirits and for their beauty. In fact, the more beautiful the better, as it was more likely to catch an evil spirit's attention. It would then absorb the spirit that would be caught in the spider-web strands of glass that exist in the interior. Witch balls are traditionally blue or green glass, but can also be made of wood, twigs, and woven grass or in glass of various colors. Lawn orbs/yard globes/gazing balls are actually derived from witch balls, although their purpose is primarily aesthetic.

The metonic cycle is a very fascinating thing. Basically, the solar calendar and lunar calendar match up around every 19 years. What that means for this story is you can actually guess pretty dang close what year certain astronomical events occur, like when a new moon falls on the winter solstice. It's not completely precise, however. The last time a new moon fell on the winter solstice was back in 1976 and it won't again until 2033 (you will notice, however, that the numerical difference between those two dates is divisible by 19). 1995 came close, as will 2014, as the new moon on those years falls on December 22nd. Guess which year I'm using. _*_grins*

Finally, while it's not obvious just yet, I dare you to figure out what fairy tale inspired Pitch's plot.


	19. Chapter 19: They All Fall Down

**Warnings:** Again, I promise nothing in this chapter is actually any worse than what's in the movie. Or the fairytale I'm basing Pitch's plot on. Nothing to worry about. Really.

* * *

_**Chapter 19: They All Fall Down**_

Something was wrong. Jack could feel it in the oaths and he wished he could see the threads so he'd have a better idea of what, exactly, was wrong. As it was, his command to the Wind to take him home was rather brusque and frightened. He needed to check on Jane. He was about halfway there and had hit a zone where it was early evening when he realized there was no gold sand in the air.

"Sandy? Sandy!" Jack called out desperately as he flew, but he couldn't see any gold anywhere. Never before would Jack have believed that the _lack_ of something would terrify him so much. He landed lightly on a ventilation fan on a roof below him, letting it spin him around as his eyes flickered around the town he'd ended up in, and he noted the absence of golden streamers in dismay.

"Where are you?" he murmured. A dark shape moved out of the corner of his eye and Jack scowled as he gripped his staff even tighter and flew in that direction. It was fast, whatever it was, and Jack had yet to see more than a brief glimpse of whatever it was as it ran. They set off a car alarm during the chase and caused a several dogs to start barking as they went past. Jack was fairly certain he'd cornered whatever it was when it went into a dead-end alley near a gas station. He landed, staff in position to either freeze or bludgeon, depending on what it was, and walked forward, scanning the area for whatever it was that had led him on the chase. It was dark enough Jack couldn't tell where it was hiding.

"There ya are," a familiar voice said and Jack relaxed out of his fighting stance even as he turned.

"Bunny! So it was you I was following?"

Bunny expression turned worried when Jack said that.

"Nah, mate. I just got here. Come on. North went ta get your sister. Something big's going down."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, turning a wary eye to his surrounding before Bunny thumped open a tunnel to take them safely away. It closed up behind them, leaving a single flower - an aster - behind. The wind whistled forlornly before it twisted northwards, sending the little plant swaying as it left. It was a sturdy plant, though, and would survive even in the middle of the concrete desert it was growing in. A hand reached out of the shadows and plucked it. Pitch brought the flower up and inspected it with a small frown before he crushed it and carelessly dropped the remains.

"It seems I'll have to go to Plan B in order to fetch my slave."

* * *

"Any sign of Sandy yet, Tooth?" North asked, pausing in his pacing when a new batch of tooth fairies finished reporting in.

"None," Tooth replied worriedly. "My girls are searching everywhere and they can't find a single speck of dreamsand. Even his island is gone."

Jane inhaled sharply at that news even as North muttered in Russian and said, "Not good. Not good at all."

North turned to continue his pacing only to stop short and call out, "Ah! Jack! Bunny! Good you are here!" as Jack and Bunny were ushered into the room by a yeti.

"Have you seen Sandy?" Tooth immediately asked Jack, practically getting up in his face in her eagerness for an answer.

"Tooth."

"Sorry," she replied, backing off before looking at Jack expectantly.

"No. Something's wrong, isn't it? I can feel it in my oaths."

"Oh? What are they looking like?" North asked.

"I can't see them, big guy, but Jane can make them visible."

The Guardians gave Jack's sister a look, waiting.

"Right," Jane said, metaphorically rolling up her sleeves before she began chanting. The snarled web of thread representing the oaths became visible on Jack, although Bunny and Tooth both winced at the way it seemed half-melted into Jack's body. North, however, knelt to study it closer.

"Ah. Gold thread is Sandy's oath. Not good. Is fraying."

"What does that mean?" Jack asked.

"Means Sandy is still alive, which is very good. Oath would not still exist otherwise. But fraying oath means he cannot uphold his geas. It will snap if forced."

"That's not good. Something bad must have happened to him if he's not able to uphold his end of the deal," Bunny noted, twitching. "Have we located where he holed himself up yet?"

"No, not yet. My girls are searching, but he's a star. There's so many places he could be and only so many of me."

"Right," Bunny acknowledged.

"Uh, what?" Jack asked, confusion wrinkling his brow.

"Oh, I can spin off miniature copies of myself! All of my fairies started that way, although the longer they stay separate the more individual they become. Different life experiences, you know?" Tooth explained.

"So when they're sighing and fainting over my teeth..." Jack said with a raised eyebrow and a knowing grin.

"Oh, um... Hehe." Tooth rubbed an arm and turned red before saying, "Weren't we looking for Sandy? I think we should keep looking for Sandy. Girls! Sectors 10, 15, and 30 need going over with a fine-toothed comb! Move out!"

"I think I embarrassed her," Jack confided quietly to his sister, an unrepentant grin on his face.

"I think she's more interested in your teeth than in you," Jane shot back with a teasing grin.

"Ah, loved only for my teeth. Dang. But getting back on topic, why would Sandy being a star mean he's hard to find? Aren't stars big and glowy? Not that Sandy's big, or anything, but he's definitely glowy. Plus all that sand trailing behind him should make him fairly easy to find, right?"

"Not that simple, mate. Sandy is - or was, rather - a wishing star. Wishing stars travel; have to get close enough to hear the wishes in order to grant them, right? And when I say close, I mean close. MiM can't even hear wishes without the balloons the kids let go and the moonbeams. He's too far out. So that bright little light ya look up at and make a wish on? Is a lot closer than all those other stars. Like within feet. Sandy's essentially just a tiny little light. What we're used to seeing him look like is the dreamsand he's made into a form so he can interact with us easier. And if something happened to his dreamsand..."

"He'd just be another tiny little light. Dang."

"Maybe something did happen to his dreamsand. It would explain why we're not finding any and why he'd be unable to fulfill his oath," Jane suggested. The room got quiet as everyone contemplated that possibility.

"What could do that?" Tooth asked quietly.

"The nightmares?" Jack suggested. "Pitch had to get that black sand from somewhere."

"Corrupting dreamsand to make bad dreams? Unfortunately possible," North said.

"What do we do?"

"We keep looking. Finding Sandy is priority," North replied firmly.

"When and where was the last time we knew where he was?" Jane asked with a small frown.

"For certain? The meeting we had December tenth," Bunny replied, "but I know he was out and about until about a day or so ago, even if I don't know where. His sand was still doing the rounds."

"Wait, what day is it?" Jack asked, a worried look on his face.

"The nineteenth. Well, the twentieth in most places now."

Jack and Jane exchanged alarmed looks.

"Schnittke! Very bad timing!" North bellowed.

"What? What's going on?" Tooth asked.

"Manny is coming down on twenty-first. Briefly," North admitted.

"Wait, what?! Why are we just now hearing about this?" Bunny demanded.

"He didn't want a crowd because... because we're going to be talking about the final steps necessary to make me a Constellation."

Bunny's ears went straight up and Tooth's hand covered her mouth as she gasped in surprise before buzzing cheerfully over to Jane and hugging her.

"Congratulations! You'd make a wonderful Constellation!"

"Thank you, dear. Anyway, I have to go up to the Moon, which is part of why Manny's coming down. I've gotten my affairs in order and everything. The only big concern we had was the possibility Jack will have to come with; the oath doesn't like distance."

"Ah. So that's why North's been haranguing us about a way to free Jack."

"Who's going to protect Burgess while you're gone?" Tooth asked, frowning in concern.

"Me, if we could get the oaths broken on time," Jack replied, "Otherwise, MiM's going to pick someone else for the job."

"Right. And we've got Tooth's fairies looking out for Sandy. I could see about trying to help track him down too," Bunny acknowledged before asking, "So now what?"

"No offense, but I have a bakery to open."

"Da. I am coming as well."

"Really? This close to Christmas?" Jane asked, incredulous.

"Da! If it will keep my family safe, I will do so. Besides, letting children visit 'real Santa' is not bad idea."

"Alright. Make sure to pack plenty of snow globes, then, because you are not parking that thing you call a sleigh in my garden."

"Yes, dear. Of course, dear."

* * *

It turned out that the bakery was so imbued with Jane and Jack's magics that everyone could see North once he was pointed out to them, not that the kids needed any help. Nor did some of the adults. "Little" Betty Worley, as Jack liked to call her, tottered in on the helping arm of her adult granddaughter and literally squealed at the sight of North and insisted on hugging him and giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek. North was taken by surprise by her, the first true adult believer he'd met thus far, but was charmed by the little old lady and let her hold his hand as she babbled at him about this and that until her granddaughter grew impatient and insisted they be going. She waved good-bye and North waved back before turning to the elf he'd brought along with and hidden behind the counter (much to the delight of Elizabeth and Danny, the bakery's workers) and saying, "Make sure she goes on list for special present."

The elf saluted and made a note on a scroll bigger than he was, also hidden behind the counter, before he went back to munching blissfully on the cookies Danny and Elizabeth had kept slipping him all day.

"Elizabeth, be a dear and ring the bell for Jack and his group. It's about time they came in and warmed up," Jane called from the kitchen doorway.

"Yes, Miss Jane," Elizabeth, who had started when Danny's previous coworker left for college last fall, answered as she went to go ring the silver bell above the door outside. Not five minutes later, Jack led in a parade of children who stopped still in awe at the sight of North.

"No way! Santa Claus!" one of the twins cried out.

"Told you there was a special treat in the bakery today," Jack stated with a grin as he hung up his staff. North was quickly mobbed, although he was obviously thrilled by the attention judging by his booming laughter. It was a good day, even if Jane had spent quite a bit of time peeking out at her husband and making sure he wasn't getting into or causing any trouble. She was quite fond of the man, but he was sometimes a little too exuberant. It was after the sun went down and the bakery closed and Jack had left for the evening to spread a little snow and joy in the rest of the world that a chill settled in Jane's body, making her shiver.

"Are you alright, _solnishka_?"

"I'm worried. Are you sure this is the only way?"

"Da. I am not looking forward to it either, but in this case, I think, how do you say, means justify ends?"

"The ends justify the means. I know. You're right. I just..."

"Is understandable," North replied, wrapping his strong arms around her and just holding her.

"How pathetically touching."

North and Jane leapt apart at the sound of the new voice, North reaching for his swords and Jane forming a moonlight glow around one upraised hand.

"Pitch. But the wards! How did you...?" North bellowed.

"Oh, please," Pitch replied, rolling his eyes as he stepped out of a shadow on the far side of the room. "You know I've broken past sturdier wards than these before. The fact they have to be lowered for those mortal 'customers' and that they expect to have access to this place after dark in winter just makes it that much easier."

"Then why haven't you before?" Jane challenged, upping the intensity of the light she held in her fist.

"Because before it wasn't the day before the Man in the Moon is due for a visit down here. Oh yes, I know and I've been planning this for years. The first steps have already been taken and the next one is getting rid of you."

"You can't kill me," Jane reminded the shade as he slid across the bakery floor. She wielded her light, making him step back with a hiss. He rallied, though, and smiled.

"Not personally, no," Pitch agreed. That's when the hands, like skeletons with skin stretched grotesquely over the bones, reached out of the shadows and started grabbing. North cursed and swung his sword, lopping off one arm and making the owner scream as she fell out of the shadows. She was naked except for a fine layer of dirt and blood and the odd way her skin hung in places while stretched tight in others and the limp, lank hair draped over her face except for the mouth full of rotten teeth. She scrabbled at the floor until she found her still-moving arm and reattached it with a horrid slurping sound.

"Mussorgsky! Hags!" North cried out as he tried dismember the creatures faster than they could fix themselves.

"I must admit, it took me awhile to find enough hags to overwhelm your witch balls, but I think they'll do their job just fine," Pitch said conversationally from where he stood in an out-of-the-way corner before ordering, "Rip them apart!"

* * *

The nightmares had been trying to get into the Warren via the tunnels for an hour now. Aster huffed as his boomerangs took out three quite neatly, only to be replaced by five more. The fiends kept falling apart into that damned black sand and reforming back into those monstrous horse shapes. The wards and the guards were holding, however, leaving everything in a kind of stalemate. Eventually, one side would tire and give up but Aster kind of doubted it would be him considering he knew for a fact he had a future self to look forward to being.

Briefly, Aster debated calling in his fellow Guardians, but it seemed a bit unnecessary. Perhaps even overkill. There! A break in the ranks. Subtle, but there, and Aster pushed his advantage. Ah, he'd just take care of this lot first and then let the others know what they'd missed.

* * *

Toothiana was annoyed. She had teeth to collect and a missing Sandman to find and these nightmares were _getting in her way_. She let out a battle cry as she scythed through another batch with her dual scimitars, turning them to literal dust and freeing the fairies the creatures had dared to swallow. They weren't taking her girls, not on her watch!

* * *

Jack had been spreading a little morning snow in Mongolia when he felt the tug of the oaths. They were jangling and everything in him was screaming he needed to go home, that Jane and North were in trouble. So he dropped everything and flew as fast as the Wind could carry him, which was quite fast indeed. He was in mid-flight and nearly there when it happened. The feeling of magical threads ripping out of your soul is not a pleasant feeling, so he wasn't ashamed to admit he'd screamed and blacked out for a bit. Thankfully the Wind had kept him aloft and he wasn't out for more than a second or so. As it was, it just increased his panicked knowledge that something was very, very wrong.

Jack landed on the sidewalk in front of the bakery, accidentally icing it up, and ran up the front path to the disturbingly dark building. The door wasn't locked, which both worried him and made him grateful he didn't have to try and force his way inside.

"Jane! North! Janey, answer me!" Jack yelled as he entered the shop. He immediately tripped over something large lying on the ground and barely caught himself as he landed hands first in something wet and sticky.

"Ugh. What?" Then he gasped when he realized he'd tripped over a body.

"Oh, God, no. Janey! Hold on! I'll... I'll get you someplace safe where we can heal you. Just... just hold on," he demanded, crying as he tried pushing his sister's hair away from her cold, slack face, unmindful of the blood on his hands. The soft noise of a bell made him look up in time to see the elf North had brought as he peeked out from his hiding place under a table. Another table was broken, North lying in the remains and his swords lying beside him amidst the wreckage. Jack could also see the dim light reflecting off thousands of tiny glass shards, the remains of whatever snow globes North had once carried upon his person.

"Not you too," Jack moaned before he moved to stand and gestured at the elf. What was it's name, again? Dingle? Jingle? Kringle? Something ending in an -ingle, Jack thought, although he'd privately been thinking of the elf as Dirty Oswald because of the way he reminded Jack of his old friend, if not as clean.

"Hey. Come on out. I have an emergency snow globe up in my room. Let's go fetch some yeti."

The elf paused before nodding and letting go of his death grip on the table and latching on to Jack's leg. He looked up at Jack, expression scared but hopeful.

"Come on."

Jack made it to the door leading upstairs with his little passenger, not noticing the bloody handprints he was leaving as he tried the switch, which didn't work, and then carefully made his way up to the next floor. His room was actually above the shop itself, where it was cooler, while Jane's was over the kitchens because she felt the cold more keenly than he did. Jack made his way to his own room, wishing as he did that the emergency snow globe wasn't too big to keep in his hoodie pocket. If it was smaller, then he wouldn't be wandering his far too dark home keeping an eye and an ear out for whatever had gotten past the wards and attacked Jane and North.

He hoped it wasn't a human, especially since he couldn't go full out against a human. Jack still remembered Paul Winston, who's parents had kept him locked away in their house because they didn't want to admit they had a child who needed psychiatric help until Pitch took advantage of the man's state of mind and had him kill them. He'd nearly had a heart attack while the police were looking for the man, because when he got back from safely delivering the elementary school kids home a few days after the murders, he realized Jane was having milk and cookies in the garden with a murderer before he'd gotten the details. Still, a human attacker wouldn't be repelled by the wards and people had been seeing North all day in the bakery, so Jack couldn't prove it wasn't a human who'd done it.

Nothing leapt out at Jack and the elf and no strange noises could be heard. If it weren't for the bodies downstairs, it would seem like a normal night, albeit one where the power went out. It made Jack's hair stand up on end because all of his senses couldn't pick up on anything unusual yet they kept screaming that it was all wrong. As it was, it was slow going to the room because Jack kept stopping to aim his staff hither and yon, making sure nothing actually was there. Still, they made it safely to Jack's room without any sort of incident.

"Now, where is it?" Jack muttered more for the sound of his own voice than anything. He em_knew_/em where the snow globe was; it was in a drawer in the desk he used to figure out the bakery's income and taxes, which was kept in his room so he could work in the summer heat. The shutter on the window banged suddenly, making Jack and the elf jump in alarm until Jack realized the Wind, while worried, didn't know what was wrong and wanted to be let in.

"Go let in the Wind while I grab the snow globe, okay?"

The elf paused before he nodded and ran to the window, where he struggled with the latch. Jack went to the desk and pulled the snow globe he kept for emergencies out of the drawer, his back to the closet he kept office supplies in, as he preferred his cedar chest for the few clothes he had. Because he had his back to the closet, he didn't notice the door slowly and silently swing open, revealing a pitch black maw. The Wind, on the other hand, did notice and, as soon as the elf managed to free the latch, it blew the window in, knocked over the elf, and moved to snatch Jack up. Jack wasn't expecting the Wind to blow so fiercely in his room and, not knowing about the closet, tried backing out of the way.

"Whoa! Wait! What's gotten into you?"

Then the arms wrapped around his waist and tried dragging him back. Jack yelped and swung his staff behind him, trying to hit whatever had grabbed him, only for his staff to be yanked out of his grasp. One of his hands now free, Jack grabbed the door frame with a blood-smeared hand and clung for dear life even as the Wind roared in anger. Seeing the frightened, wind-blown elf, Jack threw the snow globe he was still holding at him, yelling, "Get to the Workshop and get help!" Then the arms pulled Jack hard enough that he lost his grip and disappeared into the closet, the door slamming shut behind him.

* * *

**Notes:** Yes, it's another cliffhanger. To be fair, I'm at the point in the story where it's next to impossible to not end on a cliffhanger. Everything's going down now. And if Pitch hadn't been sulking that he's eventually going to lose (because he is), this would've been out faster. As it is, the next chapter got partially written because he was being a pain.

In case you didn't notice, in the movie, North's cursing in Russian is actually the names of Russian composers. _Mussorgsky_ is famous for "A Night on Bald Mountain", aka the Witches' Sabbath song. _Schnittke_, as you might have already guessed, is also a Russian composer.

Betty Worley's reaction to North is actually loosely based on a true story. A lovely local gentleman who gets around in a wheelchair actually shaves every January so that he has grown a nice white beard of the proper size by December. He then proceeds to dress up as Santa and volunteer wherever he can, including as a bell ringer outside stores and visiting nursing homes. At one of the nursing homes, a lady with dementia came up to him, tugged his beard, and went wide-eyed when she couldn't pull it off. She declared, "You're real!" and he agreed that he was. She then spent the rest of his visit holding his hand and declaring to everyone that "Santa's my boyfriend," much the gentleman's amused delight. He admitted to me that he hoped she would recognize him next year, because she was so sweet.

As a reminder, _solnishka_ is a Russian term of endearment that means "little sun". *grins* Kudos to anyone who can guess why North uses that particular term of endearment.

Finally, to everyone who's is interested, you can find the first episode of my serial novel ebook, The Fifth: First Iteration, at fine ebook retailers everywhere. Links to a couple of options are up in my profile.


	20. Chapter 20: Broken Oaths

**Warnings:** Um... it's not as bad as it looks?

* * *

_**Chapter 20: Broken Oaths**_

The sunlight seemed to linger on the still form that stood looking out the window. The setting sun cast light upon the ice swirled on the watcher's clothes, sending it glinting and refracting in a rather lovely way. The rays of light seemed to linger around Jack reassuringly even as the sun started to dip beneath the horizon. Jack's breath came out in a soft sigh while behind him, Pitch Black skulked and drew an odd, large sigil in black sand upon the tiled floor of the room. Jack had been in pain briefly earlier when his bond with Sandy had become too stained and snapped as a result, leaving just the black thread intact. Jack tried to avoid thinking about what that meant.

"Ah, almost time," Pitch acknowledged, chuckling before ordering, "Come here."

Jack moved stiffly as he obeyed unwillingly and he came to stand in front of Pitch, glaring up at the Bogeyman.

"Now, now, don't look at me like that, Jack," Pitch said, grinning when Jack's glare faded into a blank look thanks to the binding oath. One wouldn't know it unless one could sense it, but the winter spirit's fear rose beautifully at the complete lack of control over his own body.

It wasn't about sex. It had never been and never would be. It was about power. Pitch gained power from fear. Jane found several things, including unblinking eyes, frightening, so Pitch always played that up when dealing with her. As for her brother, deep down Jack Frost feared little except the type of person who would force caresses on anyone unwilling and particularly on people who looked as young as Jack did. Being hands on with his captive was an easy way to up the boy's apprehension and get a nice little boost of fear, never mind that Pitch's touches had yet to go anywhere near what was normally covered by pants and there were usually several layers of cloth between them when he did let his hands wander. Eventually, Pitch would have to go a step further in order to keep the boy's fear as sweet and fresh as it was, and then another step, and yet another, but it would always be about the power. Pitch didn't have much use for sex and sexuality beyond the fear it could engender. Still, Jack's fear really was quite delicious.

Pitch inhaled deeply from where he loomed over the boy before going to circle around him. Jack stood straight and rigid, the oath preventing the winter spirit from doing anything more than flicker his eyes as he tried to follow the dark spirit. Pitch decided he would have to be very careful in his commands because Jack would no doubt take advantage of any loophole he could find.

"Do you like my handiwork?" Pitch asked as he waved a hand at their surroundings. Jack couldn't respond, although he obviously wanted to, making Pitch laugh as he turned his gaze to what Jack could see. The Lunar Lamadary, the lights all broken and quite a few of the mosaics dedicated to the Moon damaged. Pitch's minions hadn't managed to take out any of those stupid lamas, but they had managed to chase them away from the area Pitch needed clear for his plan to work.

"Now, all we have to do is wait. You may speak. Maybe you'll entertain me."

"What if he doesn't show up? He does like to keep an eye on things and the others might have warned him," Jack pointed out in the closest to a reasonable tone as he could manage considering the circumstances. Pitch chuckled, amused.

"And who would be doing that? I may not have managed to kill the lamas, but my minions have kept them from calling for help. Ombric and his foolish people don't know anything's wrong, nor does Mother Nature or her lot. The rabbit and the fairy are chasing after the small herds of nightmares I've had taunting them all day and don't know the oaths are broken yet. Sanderson, North, and your little sister are all em_dead_/em and you? You're not going anywhere or saying anything unless I order you to. As for MiM himself seeing anything, well, there's a reason I had you conjure up those clouds." Pitch gestured up at the thick bank of clouds blocking the moon from sight. "Besides, he doesn't see much during the New Moon."

Jack narrowed his eyes further in a glare as he stared the Boogieman down. Pitch didn't even blink; he just grinned wider even as the shadowy hands surrounding Jack grew bolder until they finally made him flinch. He stopped when the lead hag, an ugly creature with mottled skin that looked as putrid as she smelled and had long, claw-like fingernails that glimmered like steel in the rapidly dimming light, sidled up to him while keeping to the lengthening shadows.

"The lamas?" Pitch asked her.

"Holed up like rats. The room's too bright for us to enter, but they have no way out and no way to call for help."

"Good enough," Pitch allowed as he studied the sigil he'd finished drawing. "Barricade them in and then head for the rendezvous point. Don't be late." The hag bowed and fled from Pitch's presence as he turned back towards his unwilling slave.

"Jack, you will stand on that moon, there, facing the gong. You are not to disturb the sigil in any way."

Jack obeyed. The moon in question was part of the design on the floor and seemed to be lit by a spotlight. The sigil flowed around it, blending into the shadows and the pattern on the floor.

"You are not to move from that spot. You will be happy, you will be cheerful, you will act like nothing is wrong when you invite the Man in the Moon to join you, and you will give absolutely no indication at all that anything is wrong. Understand?"

"Yes," Jack replied, sour tone at odds with his suddenly grinning face. His body gave a subtle shudder as he tried to break the hold of the binding oath, but it forced Jack to bend to Pitch's will. Thus his tone was much happier when he added, "I understand perfectly."

"Good, because it's time," Pitch stated, smiling as the sun sank beneath the horizon. Jack watched as Pitch glided over to the gong and struck it with his scythe before the Bogeyman disappeared entirely, swallowed by the shadows. The gong itself glowed and rippled before MiM himself stepped out.

"Jack, my boy! Where is everyone?" MiM asked.

"It's a surprise!" Jack enthused, bouncing on his heels and gesturing broadly even as he privately wished Pitch hadn't taken his staff. "Come on! I'll show you!"

Jack turned in his circle, as if to leave, and thus missed the way a look of sly comprehension crossed the other's face before MiM strode toward the Winter Spirit. Then a window shattered in a spray of glass and furious light. Nightlight, whose own oath long ago had made him the Guardian of the last scion of the Lunanoffs, flew forward straight and true and reached MiM just as the other crossed the sigil and blackness overtook all three of the room's occupants.

* * *

Detective Myra Bennett usually loved her job with the Burgess Police Department. Burgess was a wonderful place, great to raise kids in, and it translated into a fairly low crime rate. Oh, there was the occasional theft or domestic dispute - she hated the latter - and DUIs, but those were usually quickly and successfully rehabilitated. The deaths she dealt with were by and large accidental in nature. She was aware of only two murders in Burgess in her entire life, and only one was while she'd been a member of the police force. A few years back, a new, childless couple moved to town, so new they hadn't even visited every store in town like the Frosted Cookie Bakery or Tina's Fashion Boutique. They'd had a fight, bad enough that the wife had felt the need to grab one of the guns that they'd brought with them when moving. Her husband had wrestled it away from her and shot her with it. He'd turned himself in immediately after, overcome with remorse and going on and on about how he hadn't meant to kill her, he'd just been scared.

The other incident had happened when Myra was a little girl, although curiosity about the case was why she'd become a police officer at all and she knew quite a lot about it as a result. An older couple, the Winston's, had moved to Burgess with their adult son. The son hadn't been quite right in the head and, instead of getting him the psychiatric help he'd needed, they'd kept him locked up in their house like a bad secret. The couple had seemed so nice, too, always giving hard candy to any child they came across and visiting the bakery regularly for years. Until that one year their social security checks had started coming in late. Their visits to the bakery became sporadic as the ability to pay for goods depended on those checks and they were too proud to allow Miss Jane to give them a tab to be paid later. Then they stopped coming to the bakery at all, which is when concerned neighbors decided to check up on them and found their bodies and evidence the murderer had run off into the woods.

People had panicked at that, not knowing who the murderer was because no one had known the Winston's son was living with the couple at the time. It had been a very tense time and Myra had distinct memories of Jack Overland's teenaged father keeping a protective watch over her, her siblings, and several other neighborhood children on their way to and from school while everything was happening. They caught the son a few days later because he'd wandered into the bakery's garden and - Miss Jane being Miss Jane - the owner sat him down and plied him with milk and cookies and kept him company while she sent her workers at the time off to fetch the police. When they came, the poor confused man had ranted to them that a dark devil man had made him kill the people who had kept him locked up in the house, but Miss Jane's "magic" cookies and garden kept him away. He'd gone quietly with the police when Miss Jane had told him she and the police would keep him safe. Myra knew Miss Jane had sent the man goodies at the psychiatric hospital he was put in until he died of pneumonia a few years back, and that he'd done much better and been much happier with proper care.

The bakery itself had been a center-piece of Burgess for ages and was even one of the town's historical sites and listed as a must see in all the tourist brochures. Everyone knew the Overlands, who had kept their bakery in the family for generations. Jack even babysat for Myra when she and her husband - who worked as a nurse on the night-shift in the hospital the next town over - had overlapping shifts. Jamie and Sophie adored him and both begged for money to buy goodies from Miss Jane's bakery. All of which made this new crime scene incredibly hard to bear. There was blood everywhere and Miss Jane laid down face first in the worst of it. No one had touched the body since determining she was dead; they had pictures to take and a crime scene to secure.

"Any sign of Jack?" her partner asked as he stepped back inside; he'd had to step out before his nausea contaminated the crime scene.

"None, but there's signs of a struggle up in his room, and more of that strange black sand," Myra answered. She didn't add what they were both thinking; it didn't bode well that whoever had left Miss Jane lying in a pool of her own blood had kidnapped Jack. There was also worry that not all of the blood was Miss Jane's, although that came with the small hope that some of it might belong to the attacker.

It was the black sand that had everyone stumped, however. Black sand was not common in the area nor did Jack nor Jane had a supply of it anywhere in the bakery, suggesting the murderer/kidnapper had brought it with them. It was strewn about both the main bakery and in the rooms above, especially in Jack's room around the closet where they'd found more bloody handprints. Myra also swore the black sand had the odd tendency to move because their markers kept turning inaccurate every time no one was looking at it. It gave her the creeps.

"Any leads?" her partner, John, inquired as they both stepped outside.

"There was that man here all day yesterday playing Santa Claus. He was a huge guy, big enough to carry off a teenager," one of the uniforms suggested as they walked over to the waiting ambulance.

"Put out an APB for him," Myra suggested as she watched the coroner wheel out the body in a bag and into the waiting ambulance which would take it to the coroner's office to determine cause of death. Then she glanced up and frowned because it seemed like the sunlight had just dimmed, despite there not being a cloud in the sky.

* * *

"No. No no no no no. I _told_ them this was a bad plan," Aster muttered as he watched the ambulance drive off from the bushes he was hiding in.

The nightmares attacking the Warren had proven to be no match for Aster's wards in the end and he'd just started cleaning up the mess when a frazzled looking little Tooth Fairy had flown in and demanded he get to the Workshop ASAP. He'd arrived to find a very riled Toothiana muttering increasingly violent ideas of what she'd like to do to Pitch for attempting to kidnap her fairies in between snapping orders, and every yeti not busy in last-minute Christmas prep trying to keep a hold of a wailing elf or trying to clean up the mess it had apparently caused. Aster's sudden entrance startled the yeti enough that the bloody little blighter managed to wriggle free. By the time they'd managed to catch the traumatized creature a second time and calm him down enough to get a story out of him, the Hope Aster had given Tooth a dose of had worked and her orders were in her usual friendly, high-energy chatter instead of the focused bloodlust of before. The elf's story damn near ruined that.

The elf's wailing that North and Jack and Jane were dead upset all of the other elves, causing another bout of chaos and making it almost impossible to pry out details. Still, between bouts of disorder, Aster managed to get the info. Yes, the elf had seen North and Jane's bodies. No, he hadn't seen Jack's body because Jack had been pulled into a closet by the monster. Yes, it was dark while he was there and no the sun hadn't come up before he'd left.

When Aster suggested that they should head to the bakery in Burgess to search for the others, Tooth - who had taken over running the Workshop before all the pre-Christmas rush could grind to a halt in addition to ordering her legion of fairies as they gathered teeth and searched for Sandy - gave him a Look. Deciding the sheila obviously had too much on her plate, Aster headed down to Burgess alone, only to find out he'd arrived literally a moment too late as he saw the first cop enter the bakery right when he popped out of his tunnel. Since then, he'd been stuck hiding in the bushes, waiting for the humans to leave. At least they'd only taken one body bag with them.

It was not only full day but nearing noon before they _finally_ all left, leaving that bright tape plastered everywhere. Aster ignored it, beyond detaching what he needed to remove to get inside the bakery. There, hidden from view from any that didn't believe but in full sight for the pooka, was North.

Aster wrinkled his nose at the scent of the blood before sighing and heaving up North's body. He then half-carried, half-dragged the dead weight to the door, huffing and muttering imprecations the whole way and wishing the yeti weren't so swamped with getting Christmas ready on time that they couldn't spare a helper or two. Once outside the door, Aster laid North down on his back and took a few steps back, just to be safe. He was glad he did.

The wind pushed the few scant clouds away from the mourning sun, allowing sunlight to fall on the fallen hero. The rays lingered momentarily on the still form before brightening considerably and North's eyes flew open as he abruptly sat up before curling around the hand he pressed to his chest with a cry of, "Ah! Vavilov!"

"You all right, mate?" Aster asked.

"Da! Just lingering pain from the healing. Is already gone. Clothes are a loss, though. Is shame, but perhaps it is being time for new coat, no?" North replied as he stood up and brushed ineffectually at his torn and blood-stained clothing. Then he frowned as he looked around before asking, "Where is Jane?"

"This is the part where I say I told you so! Pitch had me and Tooth so busy we didn't realize anything was wrong here until way too late. Tooth's keeping your holiday from falling apart while running her own operation and looking for Sandy, leaving me to find ya. Only the jacks got here first because one of Jane's helpers found ya and called them."

"You are seeing more than one Jack?" North asked.

"What? Oh... no! I meant the cops got here before I did. Anyway, your little plan to get Pitch to break the oath by temporarily killing Jane didn't work and now Pitch has got Jack and your wife's on the way to the freaking morgue, North, because the humans think she's dead!"

"Schnittke! We must be going to rescue! Now which way is morgue?"

"You're asking me?"

North paced before going, "Ah! Jane has helpers that believe. We will ask one of them to help us get to morgue and then, once we have rescued my _solnishka_, we will all go and rescue Jack!"

"Well, it's a start," Aster allowed. "I suggest we not find the girl who found your bodies. Poor thing was in shock. There's also the little concern that by now, it'll have been full dark over at the Lunar Lamadary for hours now."

North frowned and nodded.

"Right. No time to lose then. This way!"

* * *

_Earlier_

They ended up in a swamp. Or perhaps it was a bog. Jack wasn't entirely sure what the difference between the two was aside from something about the water. Was one wetter than the other? At any rate, the place they'd ended up looked like a grassland covered in grasses that were taller than Jack while being completely sodden underfoot. It was also surprisingly warm, especially compared to the chill the Lunar Lamadary gained from being so high in the mountains. That didn't stop the frost that spread out from Jack's feet and gave him a place to stand on top of the wetland.

More immediate and alarming was the crowd around them made up of the dark things that only came out on moonless nights. There were howls and snarls and cackles coming from not only hags, but all sorts of shadow creatures that took the forms of daevas, ogres, shtrigas, banshees, skinwalkers, and even a La Llorona. They attempted to press in towards the new arrivals until Nightlight used his light to push them back, swinging his spear at the few too slow to avoid it. The moonbeam in the spear's crystal tip glowed fiercely as Nightlight stabbed a few of the bolder monsters, making them writhe and wail until their dark companions, cannibals all, ripped them apart. Jack watched in alarm even as MiM scowled and wove his hands through the air.

"I'm going to give you a wish, Jack," MiM informed him, "It can't break the binding, but I still need you to make it a good one."

"Right," Jack agreed only to startled when someone shoved his staff into his hand. Jack turned to see who had armed him and found Pitch standing there, smiling.

"No talking, Jack. You won't be making any wishes tonight," Pitch ordered even as Jack silently cursed in his head as his voice was taken from him. "Now go and take out the Man in the Moon and his guardian any way possible."

Jack swung his staff at MiM only for it to be intercepted by Nightlight's spear, causing the creatures around them to roar like a crowd at a sporting event.

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,_ Jack thought, hoping desperately that the other could hear him even as Nightlight blocked his next blow.

_I know,_ Nightlight replied as he parried another attempted blow and blocked the next before firmly adding, _but just as your oath forces you to obey Pitch, the oath I made back in the Golden Age to protect the scion of the House of Luna still stands. I cannot and will not let you harm him._

Jack silently acknowledged that even as he broke the block by viciously kicking Nightlight away. Nightlight recovered quickly and forced Jack to go on the defensive. Their blows rang out even as ice and light clashed, forcing their spectators to back up and give them more room to fight. The lack of footing didn't truly bother either opponent as both were used to being in the air. Even when they left the air, Jack's ice formed platforms to support him every time he touched down and Nightlight never seemed to do more than land lightly on top of the water or tips of grass. Honestly, despite the fact Jack was bigger than Nightlight and outright more powerful, Nightlight had ages more experience and actual training in how to fight. Nightlight would have won if the crowd hadn't attacked MiM, forcing the star child to abandon the fight in order to come to MiM's aid.

Jack's orders wouldn't let him ignore such an obvious opening. There was a bright burst of power and a bit of a whoomph sound as Pitch added in some of his nightmare sand and then, where Nightlight had stood before, there was a rough statue of ice that looked vaguely like a cross. Even in the dark night and despite the thickness off the black ice, the end where the spear tip would be glowed like a little candle. Pitch glowered at it, but it gave Jack hope that Nightlight was alive. Still, he had an order to follow as his binding was painfully reminding him.

Jack turned towards MiM next, staff held threateningly even as his heart felt like it was shattering. MiM wasn't even struggling against the dark creatures holding him captive, despite their claws digging in hard enough to draw blood.

"Do it, Jack," MiM ordered, "and remember the terms of your binding."

Terms? The terms were he belonged to Pitch and had to obey him in all ways until one of them ceased to exist or... Jack's eyes widened fractionally even as he attacked. MiM smiled beatifically as the creatures holding him let go and scrambled back from the attack, which knocked MiM backwards into the bog where he disappeared beneath the water. _...or until the Moon_ _fell_.

The black thread snapped. The pain was brief but intense and by the time Jack moved to attack Pitch, Pitch had gained enough time to counter him and grab the staff.

"I had hoped you wouldn't notice that right away. Oh well," Pitch stated before twisting Jack's staff out of the winter spirit's grip and breaking it in twain upon his knee. Jack screamed. It felt like his spine had been broken. It hadn't, of course, but there was a definite ache that flared into true pain as he twisted and turned against the hags and shadow monsters that had surrounded and attacked. He managed to beat a few off before they overwhelmed him and held him helpless, limbs spread and hands pressing against his mouth and jaw so he couldn't bite his captors either.

"I knew that binding wouldn't last long after this point," Pitch admitted as he studied Jack. "But this moment of triumph was meant to be shared before we take care of a few loose ends. Besides, I've waited long enough to make you my Fearling Prince."

The hags cackled and screeched with laughter even as Jack tried fighting harder against those holding him, his cries muffled, even as Pitch strode close, extending a hand wreathed in darkness.

_No! No, not yet. I don't want this! I still wish to fix what I did wrong!_

_ Wish granted._

Jack had a moment of surprise at the whisper on the edge of his mind and then he suddenly wasn't at the bog any longer. Pitch and the other dark creatures stared for a moment where he'd been just before. Then Pitch's face twisted in rage.

"Find him! Now."

* * *

**Notes:** Vavilov is yet another Russian composer, as you might have guessed. He's actually the one who wrote the famous song "Ave Maria", although many people mistakenly attribute it to Caccini. So many, in fact, that half of the one's that do properly attribute it to Vavilov still add Caccini's name to the overall title.

Detectives are the members of a police force actually involved in investigating crimes. It was too tempting to not make Jamie's mother one... and I might have been kind of thinking about Detective Eliza Maza when I realized I needed to involve the police in this story.

"Jacks" is indeed slang for cops in Australia (and the UK!). Ages ago, someone anglicized _gendarmes_ into John Darme as a joke and John then became Jack and pluralized.

And now for the rather obscure fairy tale Pitch's plot is based upon, which should be obvious to anyone familiar with it at all: The Buried Moon. For all of you going, "OMG! You killed MiM!" I promise the fairy tale has a happy ending and so does this story.

Also, I'm sorry for the slow updates recently, but between working and meeting my original fiction serial novel's deadlines, I don't have as much time for fanfiction as I'd like. Still, I love this story too much to abandon it, especially this close to the end. Just be aware updates are going to be a little slow right now. And feel free to poke at me if I've gone a month without updating.


	21. Chapter 21: Finders Keepers

I should be working on original fiction, but have a long chapter instead. No warnings beyond a brief description of a morgue and what goes on there.

* * *

_**Chapter 21: Finders Keepers**_

Jack didn't know where he was. He'd sort of lost track of time when fighting Nightlight and... and everything that had followed after, so the fact it was daylight here told him little than it was probably somewhere in the Western Hemisphere, although the western-most parts of Europe weren't entirely out of the question. It depended on how long he'd been gone and how long he'd spent unconscious in this new local. The chill in the air and familiar feel of the forest suggested North America. Unfortunately, North America was a big continent.

Even worse, Jack was without his staff. Not even the two broken pieces of it were anywhere in sight. And it's damage was affecting him even now. It was an odd sensation, and very worrying, but he couldn't feel anything below his waist except for an uncomfortable pins and needles sensation unless he focused on actually feeling it, at which point the sensation turned painful. Getting his legs to work was an exercise in frustration because they could work but didn't seem to want to. Jack had managed to stand for a few minutes at a time and even walk, but his legs kept giving out after a few steps and it took longer each time to recover. He'd ended up half crawling, half dragging himself by his arms to the tree he was now leaning against while he frowned down at his legs.

He needed to reach a clearing, Jack decided, so he could try and signal Sol in hopes the Sun might be able to pass the information about... about what Jack did to MiM along. He'd admit as much. MiM had even told him to do it, no doubt realizing it would free Jack from his oath with Pitch. There was also the matter of Jack suddenly being elsewhere after thinking of a desperate wish, one he still wanted to achieve. The fact that Jack was here at all and not currently Pitch's Fearling Prince suggested MiM's wish had come through at least this much. The fact it had happened at all gave Jack a small hope that maybe MiM wasn't quite dead either and simply in need of rescue. Jack laughed bitterly at that thought. As if such a rescue would be simple.

As for telling Sol, well, Jack had always felt kindly toward the Sun once Sandy had explained what exactly the binding entailed, even if he did melt Jack's snow. Jane hadn't had to marry North to gain her practically immortal life, only be bound to a star. North had refused to back down when he'd become aware of that and so the star binding was actually a three-way binding. Jack respected North for going through with the wedding anyway and the marriage was actually good for them, although they seemed to do better with a degree of separation.

The star involved in the binding wasn't Sandy, although all of them in the know encouraged that point of view lest Pitch learn the truth. Not even Bunny and Tooth knew, although North had broadly hinted at it when he'd mentioned he and Jane have marital relations in a nice sunny area. The simple fact was, many people forgot the Sun was a star. A fairly young star, as stars went, but still powerful enough to keep Pitch and the dark things that flocked to him bound to the night and the shadows. The fact Sol was star-bound to Jane and North just meant he had a stake in the happenings on this world. So Jack would have to get out of this dense forest to an area where he could see the Sun and Sol could see him back. Once Jack got his legs back under him, that is.

Jack was hungry, thirsty, frustrated, and fighting against sheer exhaustion that seemed to grow worse the more he fought. He didn't let that stop him, however, when he heard several voices calling his name in the distance. Using the tree to drag himself up, he tottered unsteadily in the direction of the voices, calling back, "I'm here!" He must have fallen asleep while contemplating his options, because the light had dimmed the way it did in the afternoon, meaning he had less time to gain Sol's attention than he'd thought.

Still, Jack managed to stumble along on unsteady legs, not unlike a new foal and he nearly cried with relief when he saw the line of people beating the bushes and apparently looking for him because he recognized the people of Burgess. As it was, his legs nearly collapsed out from under him and only sheer determination kept him upright as he kept going in order to meet with his would-be rescuers.

"Here! I'm right here! Oh, am I glad to see you!"

Having someone walk right through you is a horrible experience. The feeling of _not existing_ for a single, terrifying moment is impossible to describe but it rocked Jack enough for him to lose his already shaky control over his legs. He fell to his knees with a thump and a shaken gasp even as he pressed a hand to his chest to make sure he actually was breathing, that he did indeed still exist.

The search party, Jack realized, consisted entirely of adults and since his oaths were broken, he was no longer Jackson Overland in the slightest. Even without his staff, he was still Jack Frost and none of the people looking for him could see him because they weren't looking for Jack Frost. Worse, he'd never been Jack Frost without his staff before so he had no clue what he could do. Flight was obviously out because while the Wind moaned around him, it had yet to try and pick him up, something it was usually eager to do. Which really stank, because flight would solve his mobility problem. On the plus side, if he headed in the direction the searchers had come from, he'd probably find Burgess. Forcing himself back up, Jack made his slow, unsteady way towards town.

* * *

North did indeed know Danny's address but unfortunately, from Aster's point of view, North was used to traveling by roof-top and chimney when the distance wasn't great enough to go by snow globe or sleigh. Having the large man drag him about to their destination was not something Aster wanted to experience again. He didn't mind heights. He really didn't, as long as he had control. North dragging him about by snow globe, sleigh, or that last chimney that left Aster coughing soot and his fur dusty black was not in control. Still, they made it to the kid's house and seeing the boy's face when the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus stepped out of his fireplace was almost worth the indignity Aster had gone through to get there.

"You're, uh, a bit early, aren't you? It's only the twenty-first."

"True, true," North said as Aster tried to shake off the soot coating him. North was, to Aster's irritation, as red-clad and clean as he ever was. "However, we are needing your help. Is very important."

"Uh, okay? What do you need me to do?"

"Can you take us to morgue?"

"The... morgue? Why do you want to go to the morgue?" Danny asked in an incredulous tone. "And why do you need me to take you there?"

"We are needing to be rescuing my em_solnishka_/em, your Miss Jane."

"Ya see, the adults kind of have the wrong idea about her state of... aliveness."

"Is that why the police called asking when was the last time I'd seen Jack and Miss Jane and told me not to go to work at the bakery today?"

"Probably," Aster said even as North added, "Very likely."

"Okay. I hope you don't mind riding in my beat-up old car. Hey, Mom! I'm going out! A few friends asked for my help with something!"

"Okay!" a female voice called from another room, "Just don't forget to go to work today!"

"She doesn't know?" Aster asked.

"Not yet. I was about to tell her when you showed up. And let's hope she doesn't anytime soon or I'm going to be stuck here."

"Right."

The car really was frightening to behold. Aster gently nudged it with a foot before declaring, "Yeah, no. I'm not riding in this. I'll just run beside ya."

"Bunny! Where is your sense of adventure?" North scolded, trying to wrap an arm around the pooka. Aster recognized the gesture for what it was - a way to grab him and shove him into the vehicle - and he nimbly dodged it.

"Nah, he can run beside it if he wants," Danny said as he opened the driver's-side door. "The only things holding this hunk of junk together is a hope, a prayer, and a lot of rust."

"Hmm," North replied, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he looked the car over. "I am thinking there is more holding it together than that, but it is in need of work."

"Yeah. Now are you getting in or are you running like the rabbit?"

Despite that whole rigamarole, the trip over to the morgue, which was apparently situated in the town's police station, was anticlimactic. Getting into the morgue looked to be a more interesting challenge because the building was humming like a hive of bees as dozens of people, in uniform and out, swarmed the place.

"Wow. They've got police here from everywhere," Danny exclaimed as he looked at the information printed on the cars parked outside the building. They were walking up, having been forced to park down the street. "They've got the county sheriff and cops from all the neighboring towns and even a few from the city. Wow, that one's from the capital. And there's a news van over there. Looks like they're setting up for a press conference or something. Whatever you guys are involved in, it's getting a lot of attention."

Aster grimaced even as North nodded in acknowledgment. Getting in when two-thirds of their group couldn't be seen was doable, if uncomfortable. Like every other spirit, Aster hated being walked through, but it looked like an inevitability with the number of adult non-believers around.

"The morgue's in the bottom floor. They have a door for it in the back," Danny said, gesturing at where the building, situated on the slope of a hill, had it's bottom floor half exposed by the surrounding landscape. "We'll give it a try first. I think it's usually kept locked, though."

"Right."

Moving carefully, the three managed to get through the crowd gathering on the front steps of the building and around down to the slope leading to a parking lot and the door they needed. Then Danny's phone rang.

"Hello? Mom! What's wrong? Calm down, I'm fine. I told you, I'm with some friends. No, you haven't met them, but we're actually at the police station right now. No, we didn't do anything wrong! There's some sort of press conference going on with a news crew and everything, so we stopped to see what's going on. Yeah, yeah. I'll come right home. Yes, I promise you I'm fine. I'll see you in a bit. Good-bye, Mom."

"Danny? Is that you?" a woman called. All three of the would-be sneaks froze and turned to look at the officer approaching them. Myra Bennett smiled at the sight of the boy.

"Hi, Mrs. Bennett. Or is it Officer Bennett here?"

"Detective, but you can call me Mrs. Bennett. Came for the press conference, did you?"

"Yeah, what's going on? Everything's been weird today," Danny asked, purposely not looking at the two spirits slinking away.

"Well, the press conference will explain a few things. And then I have a favor to ask you."

"Um, sure. What do you need?" Danny asked as he was snagged by the detective.

"Well, we just lost our guide," Aster noted as Danny was pulled away by Myra Bennett.

"He is safe and we no longer require his guidance. Let us go fetch Jane and be on our way," North replied with a hard set to his face. Aster looked at him and nodded.

"Right. Let's do this."

The door was locked, but considering North had started out as a Bandit King and even now was the focus of a legend that had him entering millions of locked homes in one night, it didn't actually give either spirit any trouble. More concerning were the two men standing in front of the door labeled as the place they were trying to get to.

"Have you done anything with the body yet?"

"Not yet, not beyond a quick overview. I can't really do much more without her medical records. Well, technically I can, but it also doesn't feel right. It's Miss Jane. It doesn't feel right cutting into her when it's pretty obvious what killed her was whatever ripped into her. I'm still not sure what did that. I'd say the marks look like a human with claws did it rather than any kind of wild animal, but then I'm not exactly an expert on wild animals."

The other man hummed in agreement several times as he listened before asking, "So why do you need her medical records?"

"Well, to determine her full name and age, for one. How old do you think she is?"

"I don't know. Considering how old Jack is, I'd say at least forty, although she looks more like fifty or sixty, maybe seventy considering her hair's all white, but that might be dye. Some ladies do that."

"True, but I can't put down 'indeterminate age' for someone I've known my entire life! It's... disrespectful! That's what you do to John Does. By the way, how old is Jack?"

The other man suddenly frowned in concentration before admitting, "You know, I have no clue. Teenager, of course, but I'm not certain what exact age he is. And now that you mention it, Connors upstairs is pitching a fit about how hard it is to file a missing person case when you can't prove the person ever existed. He can't find any kind of birth certificate or social security info on the kid."

"Nor can I find anything similar for Miss Jane. She never came to my practice and neither did Jack, so I called Dr. Cornel because some parents and grandparents use her to save time, even though she specializes in pediatrics, and she doesn't have anything on them either. Richards, the dentist, doesn't have anything either and I have no clue where to go looking outside of town. I don't even know Miss Jane's last name!"

"Isn't it Overland? I'm pretty certain that's Jack's last name. It's one of the things you learn in school when they get into the history of the town: the bakery's always been owned and operated by the Overlands."

"I thought so too, but maybe she's been going by her maiden name or something, because there's absolutely no records of a Jane Overland anywhere."

"Surely there's some sort of property deeds or tax documents or something," the other man suggested as they moved from the door and headed for the stairs. "I'll help you look, if you'd like. And Bennett's dropping off a sitter for her kids. She lives by the bakery, so we could have her swing by and look at their records."

"Finally!" Aster muttered, heading for the door before noticing North wasn't following him. The man was staring at a bulletin board or, more accurately, at an artist's rendition of a rather nasty looking older man. It took Aster a moment to realize the picture was supposed to be of North.

"Good thing they can't see ya, mate, or we'd be in real trouble," Aster stated as he nudged North, making the large man start and reach for a sword. North calmed immediately and his hand left the sword hilt as soon as he touched it.

"Da. Let us be going. Jane is waiting."

At first, Aster couldn't see where Jane could be waiting in the cool-temperature room until North went unerringly to what looked like six stacked metal doors in the wall and opened one of the middle ones to reveal a cold chamber deep enough to keep the body he pulled out on the accompanying long tray. The body bag had been removed, as had Jane's clothes, which became apparent when North pulled back the sheet enough to reveal Jane's face and bare shoulders.

North, who had been frowning practically this whole time, suddenly beamed as he said, "Ah! I have always been wanting to awaken Sleeping Beauty with kiss!" He then followed word with deed and kissed her with a loud smack. There was a brief glow as the star-binding did its job. Then Jane was sitting up, clutching the sheet to her bosom as she looked at the room in dismay.

"Oh dear. The town thinks I'm dead, don't they?"

"Yep, and they think this gumby did it," Aster answered, indicating North with his head.

"Oh no," Jane sighed, leaning her head into her hand before looking up and asking, "Where's Jack?"

The two males shifted uncomfortably before North said, "It is looking like Pitch has him."

Jane let out a very unladylike curse before shifting to stand, wrapping the sheet around her as she went.

"Well, first things first, we need to get back to the bakery. I want some clothes and the ones I came in are probably not only rags, but locked away as evidence somewhere. Besides, Jack has enough things of varying importance lying around at home that I might be able to do a finding spell. I trust you have a way there that doesn't involve convincing the town that there's a nude corpse running around?"

North and Aster exchanged glances, making Jane sigh again.

"You didn't think of a way out of here with someone the adults can see, did you?"

"There is Danny's car. I was paying attention while he was operating it and I could be driving it over. He will understand us borrowing it to make quick getaway," North suggested, looking please with himself.

"Danny's here?"

"One of the officers saw him before we got inside. It's a zoo out there, but the car park out the closest door's pretty empty. We probably could sneak ya into a car, although I'm not so sure about this blighter driving," Aster stated as he pushed in the tray she'd been lying on and shut the freezer door. There. That should buy them some time before they realized she was missing.

"It'll have to do," Jane decided.

* * *

"Thank you for doing this, Danny," Myra Bennett said to the teen sitting beside her in her car.

"No problem, Mrs. Bennett. You're busy for the same reason why I'm not and I think all of you adults would be happier with us eighteen and unders safely locked inside while you go search the woods," Danny said before giving her a cheeky smile and saying, "Besides, I've never ridden in a police car before."

"Oh? Did you want to ride in the backseat?"

"Nah, but thanks."

"Alright. Anyways, mine and Patrick's work and cell phone numbers are on the fridge as well as all the emergency contact numbers. There's several frozen pizzas in the freezer, so just throw one in the oven. Just make sure to follow the instructions on the box. Jamie's been busy with some sort of project in his room, so just check in on him every so often. Sophie's really in to My Little Pony so you can probably just throw it on using Netflix to keep her happy. I should be back by ten tonight. I'll call if I'm not. Patrick will be back by two in the morning. We told your mom you'd be spending the night, so just crash in the guest room. Bedtime for Sophie is eight and she likes to be read to. Jamie's is nine. Make sure they've bathed and brushed their teeth and don't let Jamie convince you to stay up late."

Danny gave the appropriate response and the rest of the drive was silent. Danny didn't blame Mrs. Bennett. As far as she knew, some person had killed Miss Jane and kidnapped Jack. Danny knew enough about them both to know that whatever had really happened, it involved something the police weren't prepared to deal with. He'd arrived at the police station just as they were announcing a temporary curfew for the kids thanks to a kidnapping. They were, to Danny's consternation, looking for Santa Claus.

Then his cell rang. By the time Danny had dealt with a frantic phone call from his mother, the two immortals he had been guiding had slipped away and Mrs. Bennett had noticed him. Her husband worked the afternoons and late evening shift at the hospital the next town over so he normally got the kids to school and daycare. Mrs. Bennett normally picked them up, since she worked an early shift, and stayed with them for the rest of the afternoon and evening. With everything going on and school out for the winter holidays, Mrs. Bennett couldn't be home this afternoon and she desperately needed a sitter, especially since her normal one had disappeared.

After getting Danny's acceptance - he honestly didn't have anything better to do and he had a feeling Jack, Miss Jane, Santa, and the Easter Bunny would all be disappointed in him if he didn't help out - Mrs. Bennett had worked out the details with Danny's mom over the phone and then left work long enough to ensure Danny got safely to her house. Mr. Bennett practically flew out of the house when the police car pulled in, pausing only long enough to make sure it was his wife and kiss her on the cheek before getting into his car and taking off for work before he was much later. Mrs. Bennett watched him go fondly before adding a few more late minute instructions.

"Since it's so early, the kids can have snacks if they ask for them, but not after four. There's fruit in the fridge and graham crackers in the cupboard last I looked. Try and get dinner ready by six. And lock the doors after you get inside and don't leave the house. Patrick and I have keys. Be safe."

"Yes, Mrs. Bennett."

"Jamie, Sophie," Myra called to the two kids standing in the open doorway, "I have to work all day and tonight. Danny's going to look after you, so be good for him."

"Where's Jack?" Jamie asked, looking confused by the sudden change in babysitters. Myra's face fell before she struggled to hide the emotion away.

"Something... something bad happened and Jack's not available right now, okay? Just be good for Danny. I'll be home later."

"Okay."

"Come on, let's go inside. It's cold out here," Danny suggested, herding the kids inside and locking the door behind him.

"What's going on?" Jamie demanded after his mom's car pulled out and took off. Danny shrugged.

"I wish I knew, kid. What I do know is that something bad happened to Miss Jane at the bakery, Jack's missing, and that Santa and the Easter Bunny are already working on fixing it. The adults are aware something's wrong, so they want everyone eighteen and under inside a locked house. Also, for some reason, the cops seem to think that, whatever happened to hurt Miss Jane, that Santa did it."

"But Santa wouldn't hurt Miss Jane!" Jamie insisted.

"I know, which means the cops are barking up the wrong tree. But good luck trying to convince them of that, because they're all adults who don't believe in Santa Claus."

"Adults are so stupid sometimes," Jamie huffed.

"Stupid adults," Sophie added.

"Yeah, do me a favor and don't claim she got it from me when she says that to your parents."

"But then I'll get in trouble!"

"Them's the breaks, kid," Danny said, rubbing Jamie's hair and making the boy scowl. Suddenly a sly look - or, rather, what Jamie probably thought was a sly look - appeared on the boy's face.

"Will you let me blame you if I show you the fairy I caught?"

"You, wait, what? You caught a fairy? Like a Tooth Fairy?"

"Nuh uh. More like Tinker Bell from Peter Pan. You know, like in the play where she's a ball of light that changes colors based on her mood. It's too cold for fireflies or lightning bugs and it changes colors, too. I've been trying to figure out what emotion each color means."

"Fairy, fairy, fairy! Bootiful fairy!" Sophie chirped.

"Huh, okay, you've got me interested. For one time only you can place the blame on me in return for seeing your fairy."

"Cool! Come on! It's up in my room."

"Of course it is," Danny stated dryly because where else would a kid hide a fairy?

Jamie's room was... well, Danny couldn't say it was clean but it was in much better shape than Danny's was. Jamie went over to a pile of toys in a corner and removed the top layer before extracting what looked like an old peanut butter jar that had been cleaned up, unlabeled, and had tiny holes punched into the lid. Floating inside the plastic jar was a sullen blue light about the size of a quarter or maybe a bit bigger.

"Pretty cool, isn't?" Jamie asked as he held out the jar for Danny to take.

"Yeah, it is," Danny admitted because, for all that it looked like a floating ball of light, that alone was enough to be amazed by.

"I caught it the day before yesterday. It was kind of yellowy-orange or maybe gold when I saw it and it was kind of floating around like it was in a daze, so I ran and got my old firefly jar and caught it. That's when it turned pink, which I think meant it was kind of shocked. Then it turned red, which is definitely angry because it kept trying to get out and I think it was trying to scold me, although it just sounds faintly like bells. It was like that all day yesterday too, and then this morning it's just been blue and hasn't really moved, despite me trying to tempt it with treats and everything."

"It probably wants out," Danny stated reasonably.

"No! Don't let it out! It's proof there's something out there! Something the adults can't ignore, like they do Jack and Miss Jane." Then Jamie turned sad as he said, "I hope they're okay. You said Santa and the Easter Bunny were working on helping them, right?"

"Yep. They were on their way to Miss Jane when I got separated from them by your mom needing someone to look after you."

Then Danny noticed the light turned an inquisitive green and it perked up a little. Danny frowned at it before sitting on the bed and holding it up where he, Jamie, and Sophie could all get a good look at it.

"Do you know Jack and Miss Jane?" Danny asked. The light bobbed up and down like it was nodding.

"Is that a yes?" The light bobbed again.

"What's no?" The light replied by moving side to side like it was a head shaking.

"So you really know Jack and Miss Jane?" Jamie asked excitedly, wondering why he'd never tried asking it questions. An emphatic nod-like gesture was his answer.

"Did you know something happened to them?" Danny asked as Sophie giggled and tapped at the jar. The light turned blue before slowly making its yes gesture.

"What happened?" Jamie asked. The light stayed still, but there was a faint chiming sound.

"Yes or no questions only, kid. I don't think it can answer anything else in a way we can understand."

"Oh. Right. Can you find Jack?"

There was a paused before another emphatic yes. Then the light bumped meaningfully against the lid of the jar.

"You'll lead us to him? And not get us lost or hurt?" Danny asked, remembering it was a good idea to hash out details when dealing with fairies that weren't Tooth Fairies. That deal was already set out; teeth for money was an even exchange. There was a longer pause before the light bobbed in an affirmative.

"Well, let's go! I'll get mine and Sophie's coats and shoes!" Jamie enthused before running out of the bedroom, Sophie thundering behind him.

"Jamie, wait! I promised your mom we wouldn't leave the house! She'll skin me alive if I let you go out," Danny called as he followed the kids to the coat room, which was really just an alcove by the front door. Jamie paused in pulling on his shoes, leaving him shod in only one as he pouted up at Danny.

"But the fairy can help us find Jack! You said he was missing and if we can find him while Santa and the Easter Bunny are taking care of Miss Jane, then Mom won't have anything to worry about. And what if he needs our help?"

"And what exactly do you think you can do if he does need help, kid? This isn't a game. There's something scary out there and it seriously hurt Miss Jane. I don't think you're going to do much against it."

Jamie's pout turned wobbly but it was Sophie who started crying.

"Ah, no! Come on, don't cry, Sophie. I know, do you want to watch My Little Pony?"

"Ponies?" Sophie said, although it was garbled enough that Danny wasn't one hundred percent certain that's what she'd said, but the nod she'd given while saying it was enough for him. He scooped up the sniffling toddler and sat her down on the couch before trying to figure out which remote did what. By the time he'd gotten her settled in, he remembered he'd left Jamie in the coat room and went to check on the boy, only to find the kid's coat and boots missing and an empty peanut butter jar sitting on the floor.

* * *

"Detective Bennett?"

"Copy," Myra replied to her radio.

"State your location."

"Main Street approaching the bakery."

"Brass wants you to swing by the bakery. The coroner refuses to do more than a basic check without medical records for a proper comparison and he says he doesn't have her records and neither does any other doctor in town. There's also a question if she left a will anywhere."

Considering Dr. White, who doubled as the coroner, was the only doctor in town who specialized in adult medicine - the other doctors being Patricia Cornel, a pediatrician, and Duane Richards, the dentist - that meant Miss Jane apparently went out of town for medical necessities. That also meant looking through the victim's papers for medical records or, failing that, an address, phone number, or even a paid bill.

"Ten-four. On my way."

The bakery was actually only a few blocks from her house, so it wasn't a big deal for her to stop by. In fact, she'd often done so at the end of a shift. It felt different this time, with the lights off and the police tape fluttering in the breeze. Myra frowned at the latter because it looked like someone had detached some pieces and gone inside. Myra unsnapped her holster. After letting dispatch know what was going on, Myra approached, gun in hand, and did a quick sweep of the building.

"No one's here, dispatch. Probably a nosy hoodlum or a thief looking for some quick cash. We'll need to do a sweep later to see if anything was taken. Good thing the register's bolted down. I'm going to look for those records now."

"Ten-four, Detective Bennett."

Myra headed upstairs. Having been up there before just earlier that day, she knew all the bakery's paperwork was, oddly, kept in Jack's room. From the looks of it, while he didn't work in the bakery directly, he helped out by doing the bakery's taxes and accounting. There were two filing cabinets in the room and the closet had a few tubs of records that needed to be kept for a few years but weren't immediately useful. Not finding what she needed in the filing cabinets beyond years of ledgers and recent tax records, Myra turned to the tubs in the closet, pausing only contemplate the bloody handprint on the closet doorjamb and wondering what could possibly have been in the closet that was so important.

The closet was neatly organized with small items in tubs that were stacked on myriad shelves built into the space. Myra reached up for a tub that noted it contained records and pulled it down, only for it to catch on the next tub over and send it crashing to the floor, spilling it's contents. Myra set down the tub she was holding and inspected the mess with a sigh until she noticed the spilled tub had contained hundreds of pictures. The backs all had inscriptions on them, some in Jack's bold yet pretty cursive that Myra recognized from the accounting books and others in a clunky, blocky lettering that she realized had to be Miss Jane's.

Myra smiled at the pictures as she started cleaning them up, putting them back in their tub, only to pause when she recognized in one picture the man they had an APB out for as a possible witness or even suspect. He had a long white beard, a red coat, a jolly face, and he really did look like Santa Claus. He had his arms around Miss Jane in the picture and they were both looking at each other fondly. A former lover? A current lover, for that matter? Turning the picture over, hoping to find a name to go with the face, she found the photo inscribed, "Jane and her husband, 1982," in Jack's hand. Husband? Myra had thought Miss Jane was widowed, but apparently not. It looked like she needed to find a marriage license as well as medical records and a possible will.

Hoping there would be more pictures of the mystery man and that one of them might have his name written down, Myra started sorting through the photographs. It was odd, but many of the photographs seemed older than usual, like what you'd see a genealogist gather, although the subjects were all the same. The strange man was in fewer photos than Jack and Miss Jane were, but he was there. Most of them described him as "my husband, Nicholas" in Jane's blocky handwriting or reiterated Jack referring to him as Jane's husband except for one of the man standing alone labeled, interestingly, "North, 1880", in Jack's hand.

It was an old-fashioned black and white photo but it was undoubtedly the same man. And that's about the time the dates written on the photographs started to register in Myra's mind. She grabbed the ledger that had been left open on the desk. The last date was two days ago; Jack apparently hadn't gotten around to doing yesterday's figures before he'd been kidnapped. But Myra wasn't interested in the numbers so much as the handwriting. It matched the handwriting on the back of the pictures, just as Myra had noted earlier, except how could that be possible? She tore through other ledgers stacked on shelves and placed in the filing cabinets. The same handwriting in each and every one, dating back decades, too many decades for it to even have been done by Miss Jane unless she'd started doing the accounting as a small child and no child had such beautiful handwriting.

Myra flew back at the pictures, sorting this time for a different criteria. Baby pictures, school pictures, pictures of Miss Jane and her mysterious husband with brown hair, pictures of Jack as a little boy, anything. Someone who obviously loved taking pictures this much should have such things, but Myra couldn't find any. And the dates: 1992, 1893, 1941, 1968, 1872. There had to be other pictures. Wait, there were the ones downstairs in the bakery proper.

Myra ran downstairs, holding a stack of photos to compare to the ones on the wall. The ones on the wall were the same. Teenaged Jack, white-haired Miss Jane, no sign of the husband, however. The inscriptions Myra found on the back when she took some down matched the ones in her hand. Then she started when she realized the one in her hand, the last of the stack and thus the first to be looked at when she'd flipped it for the inscriptions, said in the same handwriting as in the ledgers, "Me and Myra Graves." Graves had been her maiden name and she'd gone by it until she'd married Patrick Bennett almost a decade ago. Myra flipped it over to see a little girl she recognized as herself, dusted with white as she danced in the snow with a barefoot, white-haired Jack who had a staff tucked under one arm.

Myra sat in the closest chair with a thump because she remembered when that picture had been taken. She'd been ten and had a horrible crush on the older boy and so was delighted when he agreed to dance with her in the snow in the back garden of the bakery, which she'd insisted was a magic ballroom. Jack was an excellent dancer and she'd been having so much fun that she'd barely noticed Miss Jane take the picture before calling them inside so Myra could warm up. Jack himself never felt the cold, as the photographic evidence of his bare feet proved, not even when he wasn't holding his staff.

Myra's eyes slid to the hook over the door. The staff wasn't there. _When the staff's away, Jack Frost's here to play._ Every child in Burgess knew that rhyme. She had memories of saying it and heard Jamie and his friends using it, although she didn't know who'd taught it to them. In fact, the more closely she examined her memories, the more she realized the boy she saw in them wasn't the father of boy who had just last month babysat Jamie and Sophie for her, but an excuse her mind had come up with for why that same boy hadn't aged in at least thirty years. Longer than that, according to the dates on the pictures. She looked back at the wall of pictures and realized the one right by her head was of the descendants of the founding families of Burgess. A copy of this was in the library as it was the oldest picture of Burgess and it's families known to exist, having been taken around 1850. Jack and Jane, she noted, were in the picture. They hadn't even been hiding it, had they? Miss Jane, Jack, even that odd man who showed up every so often dressed up like jolly old Saint Nick.

Myra took a few moments to compose herself until she no longer felt like repeatedly banging her head against the table. An immortal man named Nicholas who dressed like Santa Claus? If that wasn't freaking obvious, she didn't know what was. Miss Jane was even a picture-perfect Mrs. Claus, all plump and cheerful and always baking, especially cookies. And she lived with Jack Frost of all people.

"I can't believe I'm contemplating this," Myra moaned but she was. And, she realized, if she really did believe in everything the pictures and ledgers and everything was telling her, there was a lot more going on than she realized. Who would kill Mrs. Claus and kidnap Jack Frost? Who could kill Mrs. Claus for that matter? And where did that nasty black sand fit in? Myra glared at it because it reminded her of childhood night terrors before she was taught to laugh at them - by Jack, if she remembered correctly - about monsters under the bed and bogeymen in the closet.

Myra's neck creaked as she whipped her head so she was facing the stairs and the bloody handprint on the wall by the light switch. They were pretty certain the handprint was Jack's, left while trying to get away from the murderer/kidnapper. The matching one upstairs was on the doorjamb made it clear the person who'd made it had been in the _closet_.

"Oh no. No way," Myra exclaimed out loud at the thought that had struck her. It was too crazy to believe. Of course, so was believing Miss Jane and Jack were Mrs. Claus and Jack Frost respectively, but at least Myra had the proof of the pictures, ledgers, and her own childhood memories to rely on (although she had no clue she owed the last to the same golden-plumed little Tooth Fairy that had awoken Jack's memories around three hundred years earlier). But this idea?

"I refuse to believe that our perp is the Bogeyman," Myra stated firmly. There was a susurrus when she made that pronouncement, which made her glower at the black sand on the floor.

"Bogeyman," she enunciated carefully. The sand moved again, just enough to make it clear it had moved.

"Oh crap."

A sound from outside made her pause in her consideration of how exactly one would go about arresting the Bogeyman. No one was supposed to be here, but whoever it was they were heading for the front door. Myra removed her gun from her holster, even as she wondered if it would do any good against an immortal or monster or whatever the Bogeyman was, and held it in both hands, barrel aimed at the floor in front of her in a ready position as she waited to see who would open the door.

* * *

**Notes:** I actually based Jack's troubles walking after his staff broke on the movie during the period he's down and out. First he curls in on himself when the staff is broken. Later, in the pit, he does use his legs and move them about, so he's obviously fine, but he also uses them surprisingly little. He spends most of his time sitting or kneeling and very little actually on his feet and when he is on his feet, he doesn't move around much, which is an oddity for him. At one point, he even pulls himself along by his arms and hands before finally getting his legs back under himself. All of which implies that, whatever the breaking of the staff did, it involved some physical ramifications.

The sun, Sol, is indeed the third party in the star-binding. The star binding works by making all involved immortal as long as one of the people involved still lives. They just have to reach the other (starlight/sunrays work just fine - it is based on stars and their abilities, after all) and they can heal their wounds or even bring a person back from a temporary death (which from the point of view of the dead person is actually like falling asleep). Thus, once out in the sunlight, North woke up and North then woke up Jane by kissing her, although a simple touch would have had the same effect. They kept it quiet that Sol was the third party in order to convince Pitch that Sandy was the star involved in the binding, hence why Pitch went after Sandy before attacking North and Jane.

If the My Little Pony references this chapter isn't enough, yes, back in chapter two when North bumped his fist against the toy pony's hoof, he was brohoofing. Which means, yes, North is a brony. Let's face it, if any guy would be, it would be him.

The difference in Jack's and Jane's handwriting is actually explained back in the montage, where Jack was given education in the summer months during the first few years he was house-bound. Back then, education was the realm of those rich enough to afford it and girls were rarely considered worth the money it would cost to educate them. The poor rarely had any education at all and if they did, in New England it was often because of dame schools, which was basically a woman rounding up some kids and teaching them to recognize letters and numbers so they could read the Bible and keep household accounts, as well as how to do various chores and things like knitting. In other words, a somewhat modified kindergarten education. In contrast, a formal instructor would, among many other things, make sure the student could write "in a fine hand" aka cursive and thus prove their learned status. Jane, busy with the bakery and helping around the house, wouldn't have learned more than the basics necessary to make signs and keep a proper tally of what was used and sold (and even then, Jack did most of that work). Their search for myths in books in order to find spirits, however, means that Jane's actually not that bad at reading, even if she doesn't write much or terribly well.

As for the light Jamie's following into the woods... Well, that would be telling. *evil grin*


End file.
